Skyrim: Legend of the Dovahkiin
by Zero121
Summary: Returning to Skyrim expecting to find peace, a young Nord warrior is instead thrown into a world of chaos. Trapped in the middle of a civil war and with the return of the dragons, he must learn to embrace his new power as the last Dovahkiin. With doubt lingering in his heart, he will have to make a difficult choice: Either accept his destiny... or be destroyed by it.
1. Apprehension 1

Skyrim: Legend of the Dovahkiin

Apprehension 1

"Hello? Are you listening?" Ria said as she waved her hand in front of her shield-siblings face, The boy snapped out of his daze and finally looked up to see all of his shield-siblings gazing quizzically at him.

"Hmm? Did you say something Ria?"

The Imperial woman shook her head. "Are you ok shield-brother? You've been a little…absent, recently."

"No, I'm fine," he lied. "I'm just tired is all, nothing more. Excuse me."

The warrior rose from the seat he occupied and started to walk towards the Jorrvaskr living quarters, the other Companions exchanged worried glances before Vilkas finally went after him.

"Wait, shield-brother."

The young warrior had only just put his hand on the door before he turned to face his comrade.

"Shield-brother, you've been more withdrawn than usual since your return from Ivarstead." Vilkas said, his words full of concern.

"Was there something that happened that has you worried?"

The young warriors gaze fell to the floor, he stood silent for a moment before answering. "Just...a bit of a mix up. Nothing more."

Vilkas crossed his arms over his chest. "A mix up? What kind of misunderstanding could cause you to become so distant from the rest of us?"

_If you only knew Vilkas, if you only knew..._

"Its…nothing Vilkas, really." the young warrior finally answered, "I'm just tired is all, I'll be alright. So stop worrying."

With that, the young warrior turned and walked into the living quarters. Vilkas let out a heavy sigh and walked back to the dining hall.

_**XXX**_

A group of about twelve armed men walked down the quiet streets of white run, their weapons and armor making small *clinking* noises as they walked.

The night guards watched the men closely, hoping, praying they would try to start a fight. After all, it _had_ been a while since they'd had a good bandit raid. The men however simply nodded and continued to march towards their destination, Jorrvaskr. To any other person, they appeared as any other Nord warriors, seeking glory and honor through the companions. Truth be told, they were there for a much more personal matter.

Just a couple of days ago, a young Nord swordsman had wandered a little to far into the woods and had discovered their hidden campsite. After a short disagreement between the camp leader and the swordsman, a large fight broke out. In the ensuing battle, most of the men at the camp were either killed or left to die. Their chief had returned with a handful of men only to discover the grisly scene of his comrades mutilated bodies. After asking one of the dying men the location and identity of the person responsible, the chief decided to pay the warrior a visit.

"Halt," the bandit chief ordered as they stopped in front of the Jorrvaskr doors, he then proceeded to slam his fist against the large wooden door. "I know your in there boy, come out of there and face me!"

Vilkas and his brother looked up with puzzled looks on their faces.

"Who in Oblivion could that be this time of night?" the older of the brothers said.

Farkas rose from his seat. "Don't know," he replied. "But whoever it is, they sound pissed."

"Come out and fight me like a Nord, or are you too much of a milk drinker!?"

The noise soon caught the attention of Aela, who came bursting through the rear doors, "What in oblivion is all that noise!"

Vilkas turned to face her. "No clue, but he seems to be looking for one of us."

"One of us? You think they're Silver Hand?" the Huntress inquired.

Vilkas shrugged. "Don't know, but I'm going to find out."

By this time the commotion had attracted the rest of the Companions attention. They were _not_ happy. Njada was the first voice her anger.

"What brainless idiot is making all this racket at this time of night!" she roared. "If those fools value their lives, they had better turn tail and leave, or else face death by my hands!"

The bandit chief continued to pound on the doors of Jorrvaskr, shouting into the heavens all the while.

"That's it, I'm going out there." Farkas announced as he headed for the door, the rest of the Companions followed.

**ËËË**

Outside, the group of outlaws conversed amongst each other.

"He's not coming out, think we should just storm the place?"

"Are you stupid? I don't want to draw anymore attention than we already have."

"Look, someone's coming out!"

Farkas, Aela, Vilkas and the rest of the Companions poured out of Jorrvasker, weapons at the ready, Njada in particular. The two groups of warriors stared each other down for a moment, each sizing up the other, until Vilkas finally broke the silence.

"Would any of you like to explain why in the name of Oblivion you're making all this noise in the dead of night!?"

The bandit chief stepped forward, arms crossed over his chest. "I've come to settle a score with one of your members. Two days ago he came wandering into our camp and proceeded to slaughter almost all of my men."

"And what makes you think that one of _our_ members was responsible for the attack?" argued Vilkas, who was becoming increasingly more agitated.

The bandit chief glared at the swordsman before answering. "One of my men managed to live long enough for us to inquire about the identity of the one responsible. He told us that it was a member of the Companions who committed the act."

The two groups of warriors stood silent, staring each other down, waiting for the other to make a sudden move. Aela stood far in the back row, arrow nocked and ready to deliver death to anyone of the outlaws who so much as lifted a pinky. Farkas stood with his giant steel sword slung over his shoulder, glaring at each of the bandits with murderous intent. The band of criminals also stood with their weapons at the ready, eyes filled with hate, eager to do battle.

"I've heard enough of this nonsense!" Stone-Arm finally shouted in anger. "You expect us to believe some horkershit story about one of our own just deciding to murder an entire camp of people!? Why don't you tell me the one about Azura and the lusty maiden."

The bandit chiefs expression turned from calm and collected, to one of pure anger,

"You take me for a liar!" he shouted, unsheathing the large glass sword from his back. "What reason would I have for marching all the way up here, risking the threat of capture and imprisonment! For the thrill?"

"Bandits have a tendency to go out of their way to get what they want," Vilkas scoffed. "How do we know that this isn't some ruse to sack Jorrvaskr by drawing us out for distraction, hmm?"

"Believe what you like!" the bandit leader yelled. "But I am not leaving until I see the life fade from that bastards eyes!"

Fed up with the childish exchange of words, Aela lifted her bow and took aim at the bandit leaders head

"I grow tired of your false accusations against the honor of the Companions. If you truly wish to travel to the afterlife, then allow me to aid you in your endeavor."

One of the bandits bashed his sword against his shield. "Just try it, wench!"

Another raised his sword above his head. "I'll carve out your heart!"

"Go ahead and try, weakling." Njada countered.

The two groups began to move toward one another. The Companions, though outnumbered, were well known throughout all of Skyrim for their victories over factions with numbers tripling their own; not to mention Farkas, Aela and Vilkas had an ace in the hole if things got really bad. Aela pulled her bow string back as far as she could, intent on ending the bandit chiefs life for the insults he spouted about the compaions.

"That's quite enough." said a deep, commanding voice.

The two groups halted their approach immediately. The bandits stood silent as they looked up to see a dark silhouette of a man standing at the doors of Jorrvaskr, leaning against the frame.

"Stand down, shield-siblings. I beleive these men have come for me."

The bandit leader stepped forward. "Finally decided to show your face, eh coward?"

As the man stepped out of the shadows, Aela and the rest of the companions began to sheath their weapons, for in that instant, they knew the lives of the bandits would be brought to a quick end. Not by their hand, but by the hand of their newest, and _youngest_ Harbinger yet.

"My presence...is one you will come to regret presently."

* * *

**A/N: **_well there you have it, my first Skyrim Fanfic. The plot, setting, main character(whose name I will not be revealing until the final chapter of the acceptance Arc) and overall story was heavily influenced by one of my favorite TV series(whose name I will also not reveal, lest I give up the main characters name) The first chapter if this Arc took me about…three days, mainly because It was so damn long, so I'm planning on shortening the length of the chapters just a wee bit. Anyway reviews are welcome,and helpful criticism is allowed, thanks._

_Zero out_


	2. Apprehension 2

Skyrim: Legend of the Dovahkiin

Apprehension 2

The citizens of Whiterun had started pouring out of their houses, no doubt curious and rather annoyed by the cursing and shouting between the two groups of warriors. The bandits looked taken aback by the sight of the young warrior who had been reveled to be the companions new Harbinger, their new leader.

"This is him! This is the one who killed our comrades!? This must be some kind of joke!" one of the outlaws cried.

"No way a whelp like him could have outmatched the men at our hold!"

"This little man is the Harbinger of the Companions!? He's just a boy!"

The bandit leader stood silent, wondering if his men were right in assuming the young warrior in front of them was the one behind responsible for the assault on their camp. The boy was a Nord around average height and had a lean yet muscular build, unlike the large, hulking frame of most of his kind. His hair was long and wavy with a light brown color that went down to about the length of his jaw. He had deep blue eyes and slightly thick stubble of facial hair, but his most distinctive feature was the faint three clawed scar on the left side of his face. Two katanas rested on each of his hips, revealing the boy as a dual wielder. The last thing the chief noticed about the young warrior was the steel armor he sported was in almost flawless condition, like it had never once been struck with anything.

"So," the bandit leader began as he stepped forward. "You are the one responsible for the slaughter of my men?" The Harbinger stood silent, staring into the eyes of the brigand before he answered.

"Yes, but I only did so in self-defense"

"Do not take me for a fool!" the brigand growled. "You murdered my men not in self defense, but for your own sick amusement! I will make sure you suffer for your transgressions against me and my comrades!"

The young Harbinger was at a loss for words, this was the first time a group of outlaws had ever returned looking for revenge. He had been in many difficult situations before, most of them matters of life and death, but never anything this… ironic. The bandits of Skyrim were known for being short tempered and merciless in battle; a toxic combination. The Harbinger had seen and experienced first hand how tenacious and brutal bandits were to their potential victims, seen what lengths they would go to get what they desired. He had seen them kill countless innocent people for no reason other than the purpose of sport, watched them torture their victims until they died a slow, miserable death. Yet, here they stood. Twelve bandits of Skyrim, all of them demanding "justice" for the deaths of their comrades, the irony was almost amusing.

"Tell me something, bandit." The Harbinger started. "How do you think the families of the people you murdered are feeling at this moment?"

The brigand raised an eyebrow, why did he care what happened to those people? "What about them? Why does it matter how they feel? They can die as well for all I care."

"Yet here you stand, angry, clamoring for 'justice'. Justice of men whom if given the chance, would slaughter every man, woman and child in the city if they could. Men who have no remorse for the crimes they commit against innocent people, men who's purpose in life is to cause as much pain and suffering as possible. You are nothing more than a hypocrite, a fool among men. Leave now, bandits, or else forfeit your worthless lives."

The bandit leaders face had turned a bright shade of red, anger blasting through every vein in his body. "You little whelp!" the brigand suddenly charged, his giant glass sword raised above his head.

"So be it..." the young Nord said as he drew his katanas.

The bandit swung his blade downward, putting all of his might behind the attack. Expecting this, the Harbinger raised his left blade, blocked the attack and countered with an upward slash with his free blade, connecting with his opponents forehead. The brigand stumbled backward, clutching the newly inflicted wound, but the young leader of the Companions was far from finished. Taking advantage of his enemy's distraction, the young Warrior delivered a flurry of slashes at his opponent, not meant to kill, but to draw blood, to weaken and tire.

"Ugh! Son of a-" The bandit leader charged yet again, this time swinging horizontally. The Companion leader ducked the blow, rolled behind the brigand and delivered a brutal slash to the mans backside. Howling in pain, the criminal fell on one knee. "D-damn you.."

"Get him!" The Harbinger turned to see the other eleven bandit grunts charging him, a small smile spread across his lips.

"Aela."

The name had barley passed his lips as a steel arrow flew forward and lodged itself between the eyes of an unfortunate grunt. The man hit the floor with a loud thud, a pool of blood forming soon after.

"For the Companions!" Njada shouted as she charged forward, the other Companions close behind her.

The two groups of warriors charged each other, the sounds of metal meeting metal soon followed. Farkas dashed forward and drove his gigantic blade through an unfortunate marauder. Then lifting the man in the air, slammed him back into the pavement, hard. Sidestepping a bandits sword thrust, Njada cocked back her arm and slammed her shield into the mans throat and finished the attack by driving her blade through his skull. Using her speed to her advantage, Aela maneuvered herself between two of the grunts and planted a skyforge dagger in both of their temples, they convulsed before hitting the floor in a heap. In a show of skill, Ria sidestepped an enemy attack and in one upward motion of her sword, cleaved the mans entire face clean off his skull, his body hitting the floor with a wet thud soon after. The people of Whiterun cheered as the Companions made short work of the criminals until only their leader remained with his life.

The bandit chief, now back on his feet, looked on in shock and disbelief as the last of his men was killed.

"All of your men are dead," The Harbinger said as he approached the bandit leader, his katanas now a crimson color. "you're the only one left…"

The outlaw shot a dark glare at the young warrior, his eyes filled with pure hatred. "This battle is far from over!" the bandit leader slowly rose to his feet. "I still have some fight left!"

"Which I will rectify preasently."

The young warrior dashed forward, attacking the outlaw with a skillful flurry of slashes and thrusts. The chief tried desperately to parry the onslaught of attacks, but the sheer power of the blows proved to much for him to handle. The Harbinger's attacks eventually began to crisscross the mans body, blood erupting from each of the strikes as they tore the flesh from his bones. The bandit dropped his weapon and fell to his knees covered in his own blood. The Harbinger stood over his defeated foe, his blades at the mans neck.

"Any last words?"

The outlaw looked up at the young Nord, fear in his eyes, "Please…don't kill me," he pleaded. "Have mercy."

"Sorry, all out of mercy."

With one fluid motion, the young warrior separated his blades and decapitated the outlaw, the mans head bounced twice before it ceased to move. The warrior stared at the bandits corpse a moment before sheathing his blades and turned to the other Companions.

"A good fight, shield siblings." he said. "You honor the Companions and your ancestors with your bravery and valor. I'm lucky to count each of you among my allies."

The other Companions raised their weapons in the air and shouted victory cries. "We are lucky as well, Harbinger," Vilkas began. "Your skill in battle is well worthy of the title of Harbinger, Kodlak choose wisely when he appointed you as our new leader."

"Vilkas speaks the truth," Aela agreed. "We are all honored to have a warrior of your caliber as our Harbinger."

The citizens, guards, and other Companions chanted his name into the heavens, praising him as if he were Talos himself. Most warriors let such things go straight to their heads, causing them to become cocky and arrogant, but the Companions harbinger was not such a warrior. In truth, he felt it was his duty to set an example for the companions as well as provide the citizens with a sense of safety and assurance that they could sleep easy knowing that there was someone around who would protect them from harm. Njada had often berated him for thinking in such a way, saying it was the guards who were responsible for such things. That didn't matter, the Harbinger wasn't the sort of person to allow senseless violence and unnecessary cruelty in his presence.

"Come, brothers and sisters." the young warrior began as he started for Jorrvaskr, "Let us celebrate our victory with food and drink."

"I'm up for that!" Torvar shouted in excitement.

"You're _always_ up to drink, Torvar." Aela counterd.

The warriors laughed and cheered as they returned to their mead hall, their harbinger following behind. A dark shadow was looming over the province of Skyrim and the young warrior was now calling his skill and leadership into question, wondering if it would be enough to conquer the destiny that had been handed to him.

The next day was sure to bring many more challenges his way, and for the first time in his life, the young Nord felt something he thought reserved for only weakest of men: Fear.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah man, chapter two is UP! First off I would like to say thanks to every one who liked and follow the story, and the one person who commented(you know who you are.) Seconded, the reason for not revealing the Dragonborns name yet is simple: I'm saving it for the final chapter of the second arc, but trust me…you'll be both surprised and impressed with the name I've given him. On a completely different note, Obama got re-elected! Hell yeah! I was a nervous wreck last night what with the elections n all, and I was barley able to think straight, It may show in the writing. Anyway, leave your comments and the helpful criticism, its all appreciated. Thanks, Zero out.**


	3. Apprehension 3

Skyrim: Legend of the Dovahkiin

Apprehension 3

Aela nodded to one of the Whiterun guards as she made her way back to Jorrvaskr. She had just spent a good portion of the day taking care of a large group of wolves, two cave bears, and topped it off by dispatching a group of bandits who had been terrorizing travelers on the road. As she made her way into the Wind District, her mind began to wander back to the incident that occurred two days prior, when the Companions battled a group of bandits. Their leader, who's name had never been revealed, had come to Jorrvaskr seeking revenge for the deaths of his fallen comrades at the hands of their leader, the Harbinger

The Harbinger had explained that while on his way back from Ivarstead he was lost deep in thought at what the Greybeards had told him, in his haze, he accidentally stumble upon a hidden camp within the wilderness. The bandits were apparently high on skooma, and began to threaten the Harbinger with the promise of death if he did not hand over everything of value had. As he tried to explain that he had nothing but his weapons and armor, one of the men, who apparently had four full bottles of the drug, lunged at him screaming, "I'll tear your Heart out!" Obviously unwilling to die at the hands of a crazed skooma addict, the Harbinger drew his weapons and killed the man. The other bandits had attempted to best the young warrior, but found themselves outmatched, and paid for it with lives.

Banishing the thought from her mind, the Huntress finally came upon the doors of Jorrvaskr and entered. Walking in, she noticed that Vilkas was the only one sitting in the mead hall.

"Vilkas." she said pulling up a chair beside him.

Vilkas gave a curt nod. "Aela."

The Huntress grabbed a plate and threw a fresh slice of roast down upon the platter followed quickly by a large tankard of mead. She took a long chug of the stuff and slammed it onto the table in typical Nord fashion before turning her attention to Vilkas.

"Is there a reason why the hall is as empty as a Nordic crypt?" she inquired

Vilkas nodded. "Work," he told her. "Torvar, Athis and Farkas are out taking care of a group of bandits at White River Watch. Ria and Njada are getting rid of some pesky wolves in Rorikstead, a large number of the beasts showed up in the dead of night and raided a mans house, got hurt while trying to fend them off."

Aela ripped a large chunk of meat from her roast and downed another tankard of mead. Vilkas sat in silence, staring in amazement at his shield sisters seeming-less endless feast. There were times in the mead hall where she would eat and drink in moderate amounts, befitting of any typical woman. Then there were times where her appetite was insatiable and she ate everything in sight. Vilkas often wondered if it was merely her own appetite that he witnessed, or that of the beast within them all. A moment passed before Aela finally said something.

"And what of Skjor and the Harbinger?"

"Well…" Vilkas started. "Skjor is currently searching for a criminal who managed to escape from Dragonsreach dungeon. He wasn't happy about it either. The Harbinger was summoned by the Jarl to take care of a group of bandits at Halted Stream Camp - wants him to clear them out so they can mine the iron there to-"

"Fix the dungeon cell doors." the Huntress finished.

Vilkas nodded. "exactly."

Aela finished off her third helping of mead and again slammed her cup upon the table before reclining back in her seat. "You said Skjor wasn't happy about the job he was given, by that you mean…?"

"I mean he wasn't happy about the fact that the Harbinger gave him the job."

Aela sighed heavily, Skjor was being childish again. It was no secret among the Companions that the man absolutely loathed their new Harbinger, after all, he had openly admitted his dislike on several occasions. Most of the time he simply avoided the Harbinger unless he was being given a job or having a private meeting with the members of the circle, a fact that the Harbinger himself was well aware of, but not at all concerned with. He tended to focus more on moving forward rather than petty rivalries within their ranks, though he did acknowledge that he would eventually need to confront Skjor about it. For the time being, the two Companions would sit and wait for their comrades to return home.

-_Halted Stream Camp_-

"W-w-wait! Please! I yield! I-" The bandits plea was cut short as the blade of a katana found its way inside the outlaws throat, another body added to the ever increasing count. The corpses of three other bandits lay sprawled on the ground, their limbs bent to awkward and unnatural angles.

The Harbinger's clean up of the camp was going rather smoothly, in his mind at least. He then decided to turn his attention to the bandit who was trying and failing miserably at hiding.

"Who in Oblivion is this guy?" whispered another bandit who was hiding behind the workstation in the middle of the camp. After a few moments of silence the outlaw decided to take a peek around the corner to see if the assailant was still in the hold. To his relief, he was nowhere in sight.

"Did he… leave?" he took a quick survey of the area, making sure the man was nowhere in sight. "What in Oblivion was that about? Guy just showed up out of nowhere and started killing everybody. Well, at least he's gone."

The bandit let out a long, heavy sigh and leaned against the workstation frame, relieved that he still had his life.

_Drip_

_Drip_

_Drip _

_Drip_

"What in Oblivion is that?" He had barley spoken the words when he felt a warm liquid fall across his forehead. Wiping his head, the man looked at his hand, and his eyes widened in terror. Looking up, the bandit saw him, the leader of the Companions kneeling atop the workstation, swords covered in the blood of his now deceased Comrades.

"Found you."

The bandit barley had a chance to scream as the young warrior leaped off the roof and sliced the mans head off his shoulders. Rising to his feet, the young Nord made his way inside the mine, intent on finishing the job the Jarl had tasked him with.

-_Jorrvaskr_

Aela released another arrow, hitting the target dead center. She notched another arrow and took aim, this time zoning in on the target dummy's head, the arrow flew true and slammed into her target. She repeated the practice five more times before finally stopping to take a well deserved break. The Huntress sat down and took a long draft of cold mead, savoring the taste of the sweet nectar. She was about halfway done with her bottle when Skjor walked through the open area doors.

"Welcome back." she said, still facing forward. The balding warrior muttered something as he pulled up the chair from the opposite of where the Huntress sat, grabbing a bottle of mead in the process. The two allies sat in silence, neither looking at the other. Skjor quickly gulped down the contents of his bottle, letting out a loud burp as he finished, then he turned to Aela.

"Anyone else made it back?" he growled in his usual rough voice.

The Huntress shook her head "Farkas, Torvar and Athis are in their quarters resting, those bandits gave them more trouble than they thought, but they got the job done. Ria and Njada are most likely on their way back from Rorikstead."

"And the whelp?" Aela knew he was talking about the Harbinger.

"The _Harbinger_…" the Huntress began, making sure to put extra emphasis on their leaders title, "Is currently taking care of a bandit problem at Halted Stream Camp, a problem the Jarl asked him to take care of."

"Humph, playing errand boy is he?"

Aela shot the man a cold glare, which he matched with an equally cold look of his own. They stared each other down for a good three minutes before the Huntress finally broke the silence.

"What is your problem with him Skjor? Why do you hate the Harbinger so much that you wouldn't even help with the fight against the bandits that came two nights ago?"

The balding man slammed his fist onto the table, his anger finally reaching its peak, "Why? Why you ask? Just look at him! He walks around Jorrvaskr with his chest puffed out and his nose in the air. He thinks that just because he's become the new Harbinger that he controls the actions of every man and woman in the hall! He believes himself to be the superior fighter, that he's the strongest of us all… but he isn't. He is nothing but a dog, a dog who needs to be reminded where his place is."

Aela almost let her jaw drop, Skjor had said some pretty bold things about the Harbinger before, but this… this was something bordering on outright mutiny. She had seen Skjor angry and upset before, seen him hurt and in pain, she had even seen him saddened to the verge of tears, but never had she seen something like this. She could see it in his eyes and his body language, feel it radiating off his very being… he had nothing but hatred and contempt for their leader. Hatred that could eventually spill over into a fight to the death between the two men.

"You know that is not true, none of it is," Aela's tone was now harsh and dangerous, "The Harbinger is not the sort of man who lets leadership go to his head or define who he is, and he certainly doesn't believe himself to be superior to anyone. He is an honorable warrior who looks out for each and every person in this hall and would willingly give his life to protect us. I have seen him risk his own life for the sake of others… yourself included."

Aela of course was referring to the incident with the Silver Hand at Gallows Rock, one that Skjor wished had never happened. Tired of all the talk about the Harbinger, Skjor rose from his seat and headed for the doors. He stopped and glanced over at his ally. "You place a lot of trust in that boy, Aela." he pointed out, "I only hope your trust isn't misplaced, old friend." With that, the man left, leaving Aela deep in thought. She knew her trust in the Harbinger wasn't being misplaced, and that her devotion to him was not blind loyalty. She and the other members of the Companions had made it very clear to the young warrior that if he ever did anything to taint or dishonor the Companions, they would be sure to put him down. Despite the warning, Vilkas and the rest of the Companions knew that the new Harbinger was an honorable and just person and would do Kodlak and the Companions proud, but she still couldn't shake what Skjor had said. Sooner or later, his hate for the young warrior would spill over, and Skjor would be screaming for blood.

-_Halted Stream Camp: Interior_-

The Orcish bandit chief Gortwog sat counting and splitting the shares of gold for each member of his gang of outlaws. They had just recently pulled off a big skooma smuggling operation and had been very well compensated for their part in making the guards "vanish." Gortwog smiled gleefully as he finished counting their earnings. He stood up and held his arms out.

"Hahahaha! We made a killing guys! Raked in a lot of coin!" he babbled excitedly. His three cohorts all triumphantly shouted.

"How much did we bring in?" one of the men asked.

"Thirty-five hundred, Each!" the Orc exclaimed, another round of triumphant cheers rang out.

The group of outlaws grabbed a few bottles of mead and started sing victory songs together, happy in their new fortune. "Hahahahahaha! If we keep doin' jobs like this we'll be swimming in coin!" Gortwog bellowed happily, waving his bottle of mead around rather erratically.

The group of criminals were so busy celebrating that none of them noticed the lonely figure standing above on the top of the mines ramp-way. Taking advantage of the outlaws distracted minds, the Harbinger made his move. Leaping down, he drove his katana through the skull of the bandit closest to himself, the outlaw instantly went limp and fell to the ground. Withdrawing his blade, the Harbinger delivered a brutal slash to the Dunmer bandit standing in front of him, she howled and clutched her face in agony before she felt cold steel pierce her heart.

"Y-you bastard!" The Argonian outlaw shouted as he rushed forward to avenge his comrades.

The young warrior quickly sidestepped, slashing the lizards kneecaps as he evaded, the reptile screamed bloody murder and fell to the ground. "Damn you… damn you to Obli-" The Argonian's words were cut short as the Harbinger drove his blade through the mans mouth, killing him instantly. He turned and glared at the leader, the only remaining obstacle.

"Who are you! And what in the name of Malacath do you want!?" Gortwog screamed, his tone bordering on anger and terror as the Harbinger began walking towards him.

"My identity is of no concern, seeing as how you wont be alive long enough to care," the warrior deadpanned, the statement sent chills down the Orcs spine. "Why I am here is a different matter altogether. You see, there was a breakout recently at Dragonsreach over in Whiterun. The criminal managed to escape due to a weakness in the cell doors metal, which makes sense if you think about how old the dungeon is. Not wanting to have a repeat of the incident, the Jarl tasked me with clearing out Halted Stream Camp of the criminals that inhabit the place, that would be you, so his miners can dig up and use the ore to make newer cells."

Gortwog threw his hands out, as if to say "please, wait". "W-wait, just wait. I've got gold, lots of it. If you let me go… its yours!" The Harbinger took a step forward, causing the Orc to take a cautious step back.

"Are you trying to bribe me?" the young Nord asked.

Gortwog shook his head. "No, not a bribe. Its more like… a deal."

There was a deathly silence in the cave as the two men stood as still as a stone. A minute passed before the Nord said anything."Fine, I accept."

The Orc blinked twice before replying."You accept? Really?"

"Sure, I'll take your coin, and in return, you get to walk out of here with your head still attached to your shoulders."

Gortwog swallowed, then turned to lead the Nord to his coin. "Right this way…" The two men walked towards the small table up the ramp. The Orc carefully glanced over his shoulder, the boy was staring right at him. Although he had told him he would give him coin in exchange for his life, he didn't have any intention of following through with the deal. The Orc planned to split the mans head in half the second he got close enough to his weapon near his chair.

"There, its right there." the Orc pointed over to the gold piled table.

The Harbinger glared at the Orc briefly before walking past the bandit over to the table and collecting his loot. Thinking he was in the clear, the Orc scooped up his axe and made a mad dash at the Nord screaming, "You're a bigger fool than I thought! Die you bastard!"

A smile spread across the Harbingers lips, he had expected the man to go for his weapon the second he had the chance. Spinning out of the path of the blow, the Harbinger brought his blade down and cut the mans arm off, the Orcs limb flew off into the distance in a bloody spinning motion. Gortwog howled in agony, clutching the bloody stump that used to be his arm before falling to his knees.

"Did you really think I would be foolish enough to trust a bandit?" the young warrior scoffed. "Its you who is the fool, Orc. But don't worry, I am a man of my word, I will not take your life. But it doesn't matter, you will bleed out and die within minutes of my departure. I thank you for the gold bandit, it will serve the Companions well when we put it to use." sheathing his blades, the leader of the Companions gathered the gold, turned on his heels and departed, leaving the Orc to bleed to death in the cave.

"Wait, please! Don't leave me like this, please!" The bandits words were ignored as the Harbinger left the man to die.

-_Skyrim Field_-

A rather large rumble erupted within the young Harbingers stomach, he looked down at his belly and smiled. He hadn't eaten since early this morning and was dying for some of Tilma's famous beef stew, the very thought of the delicious meal made him salivate. His smile grew even wider as he listened to the jingle of the gold he had just acquired, with the money he was going to get from the Jarl on top of what he had already, he was looking at sweet pay-day. The Harbinger gave a light chuckle, happy that for once, something was going his way.

**A/N: Whew! Finally done with apprehension number three, and lemme tell you… its was not a walk in the park. Now, I have a question to ask everyone actually reading this, should I finish off the Apprehension arc and write chapter four, or should I just get in to the Acceptance arc where we finally learn the main characters name? I'm not sure, I could go either way with it. Anyway, comments are welcome. **

**Till the next chapter! **

**Zero out. **


	4. Apprehension 4

Skyrim: Legend of the Dovahkiin

Apprehension 4

_He was floating in the never-ending white land somewhere between sleep and consciousness when the dream began. It was a familiar dream, a pleasant dream, and one that had nothing to do with the war or the end of the world. He was in his old home, long since destroyed by the Thalmor. He heard laughter all around. A female voice called him by name. A moment later, arms held him, and he recognized the familiar scent of lavender. The woman said something nice to him, and he wanted to say something nice in return, but the words wouldn't come. He tried to __**see**__ her, tried to penetrate the haze that obscured her face, and was rewarded with the image of a woman with large eyes, a straight nose, long light brown hair, and full lips. He knew this woman, knew her name, yet it would not pass his lips._

_Then, the dream changed. A dark, nebulous shape loomed behind the woman holding him. He didn't know what it was, but it was a threat __- of that he was certain. His combat instincts kicked in, and adrenaline coursed through him. He quickly surveyed the area - some kind of training area, with high wooden poles, distantly familiar - and decided on the best route to flank the new threat. He spotted a weapon, his katana, nearby. If he placed himself between the woman and the threat, his armor could take the brunt of the attack, and he could counter. He moved quickly, and the dark shape howled at him - a fierce and terrible war cry. The beast was impossibly fast. It was on him in seconds. He grabbed his katana and turned to strike at the beast - and discovered to his horror he couldn't lift the weapon. His arms were small, underdeveloped. His armor was gone, and his body was that of a six year old child. He was powerless in the face of the new threat. He roared back at the beast in rage and fear - angry at not just the threat, but at his own sudden powerlessness…_

The Harbinger jolted into wakefulness, beads of sweat running from his forehead down to his chest. He moved to the edge of his bed, running his weary hands through his hair, it was the third time he'd had the same dream. He ignored it for the most part, feeling that the images he saw in his slumber were nothing of importance, nothing of real concern. Still, there was a bit of worry deep within himself, a worry he had admittedly been avoiding. It had now been a week since he returned from High Hrothgar, since the Greybeards had informed him of his supposed destiny. A destiny that placed him as the savior of Skyrim and all of Nirn. A destiny he was unwilling to accept. But even with all the doubts he had, he knew that there was some truth to what the Greybeards leader, Arngeir, had told him.

Banishing the thoughts from his mind, the young Harbinger got up from his bed and went about putting on some clothes until a knock at the door caught his attention.

"Enter." he said, not even bothering to look up.

A moment passed before Aela came through the door. The Harbinger had always admired the Huntress ever since they first went hunting together, back when he first joined the Companions. She was strong, keen minded, and a very skilled fighter. But above all else, she was beautiful, something that she herself didn't see. She never cared about how she or others looked on the outside, but rather what was on the inside, like Skjor - because he wasn't winning any awards for beauty any time soon. Maybe that was what he admired most about the Huntress the most, the fact that she looked at peoples character rather than how they appeared or how much coin was in their pockets, unlike some women he knew. Aela, for all her strength and ferocity in battle, was in actuality a very quiet and solitary individual, much like the Harbinger himself. While she did believe in the brotherhood of the Companions and friendship of others, she also believed that solitude and fighting alone from time to time was a good way to build ones character and become stronger, something the Harbinger agreed with.

The Harbinger was only about half dressed, body still naked from the waist up. He noticed, to his surprise, that Aela was staring directly at his nude upper body, something that was _very _out of character for her. In all the time that he had spent with her, she never once seemed to be interested in anything other than his skills in battle, but this, this was something he found a little… unnerving.

"Is there something you needed, Aela?" he finally asked.

"Hmm? Oh, yes." she sputtered, finally snapping out of her trance-like stare. "The members of The Circle are all awaiting your presence in the Underforge for the meeting you called."

_Shit, I forgot about that. _

"Oh, um… okay. I'll be there in a bit."

Aela raised a questioning eyebrow. "In robes?"

The Harbinger sheepishly looked down at his attire. He sported a blue robe, tan leggings, and brown boots, things that mages usually wore. He scratched the back of his head as he and the huntress locked eyes with one another.

"I'm going to go and bathe first before I attend the meeting."

"I suppose that's an acceptable answer. After all, I could smell you through the door." the Huntress joked.

The Harbinger shot her an annoyed glared, Aela gave a sly grin. "I will inform the other members and instruct them to wait, though I doubt Skjor will be pleased. You know how he gets when he's told to wait on someone else." With that, Aela turned on her heels and left the room.

The Harbinger pinched the bridge of his nose. Aela was right, Skjor would be furious over having to wait for him to finish his bath and would most likely bring it up in the meeting to start an argument… again. Deciding to cross the bridge when he came to it, the Harbinger exited his room and headed towards the doors leading to the mead hall. Before he headed out however he was stopped by the familiar voice of the Imperial girl Ria.

"Harbinger, if its alright with you, I beg a moment of your time."

The young Nord turned to face the girl. "Of course Ria. Now, what is it you need?"

Ria bit her lip and stared at the floor before answering. "Well… I… its just that…"

The Harbinger crossed his arms and gave a warm smile. "Yes, go on."

"Well, I ended up going to sleep pretty late last night, what with the drinking and celebration going on. Anyway, as I made my way to my bed I heard you… talking in your sleep…" her voice trailed off, she was obviously nervous about speaking of such matters to the Companions Harbinger about such a personal matter, something he understood.

"Yes, well I did have sort of a nightmare last night. A really bad one," he admitted, rather embarrassed about it. "But you needn't worry, I'm okay. It was just a dream after all."

Ria looked him in the eyes, concern and worry filled her expression. "I've never heard anyone sound so terrified by a simple dream, Harbinger. You were… practically screaming."

The memories of the dream, at least what little of it remained within his mind, came flooding back. The woman, the house he was in, and the beast he saw. He remembered how the thing lunged at him and the woman holding him, how he tried to defend the both of them, how he had reverted back to the form of a child - and found himself suddenly defenseless. He grimaced at the very thought of the terrible nightmare, Ria took notice of this.

"Harbinger, I'm worried about you," she said, a hint of sadness in her voice, "This is the second time I've heard you talking in your sleep. The last time you kept repeating a name over and over again."

The Harbinger perked up at this. "Name? What name?"

She shook her head. "I don't really remember, I didn't want to disturb you in your sleep. But I think it was… Alduin."

The mere utterance of the name made all the blood in his body go colder than any tundra in Skyrim and sent shivers up and down his spine, his eyes widened and his skin turned whiter than a wisp mother. Alduin, that was the name of the Nordic god of destruction, the World-Eater, and the dragon he was supposedly destined to destroy. The young Nord almost fell to the ground as his knees suddenly began to grow weak, he moved over and sat down on a nearby chair.

"Harbinger," Ria began, taking a seat next to the warrior. "Is there something you're not telling us?"

The Harbinger looked up at the girl, pale as a sheet and eyes full of dread. "I'm Sorry Ria, but I have to go." The young Nord bolted back into his room, threw off his robes, and equipped his steel armor and katanas. He went for the doors of the mead hall yet again, only this time he was practically running towards them. He glanced over his shoulders at Ria before he headed up the stairs. "Ria, I… thank you." Without another word he jogged up the stairs to the mead hall, leaving behind a very confused Ria.

-_Jorvasskr Mead Hall_-

Aela, Vilkas, and the rest of The Circle sat in the mead hall discussing the job each Companion was to take for the day. Vilkas sat in his usual spot by the fireplace, a large mug of mead in his hands. His brother sat adjacent to him, leaning in his chair with his arms and legs crossed in a relaxed manner. Skjor was sitting at the dinning table with a large plate of food and equally large bottle of mead, and made very audible noises as he quickly consumed his meal. Aela sat in a chair near the open area doors of Jorrvaskr, her weapons laying spread across the table. She had informed The Circle of the change in time of the scheduled meeting they were set to have.

Vilkas and his brother had no qualms with the sudden change, after all, it wasn't a big deal to them. Skjor however was not so pleased with the last minute change and used it as an excuse to insult the young Harbinger. Aela and the others tried to get him to calm himself, but as per usual, he refused. The man continued his tangent of swears and curses for about five minutes before Torvar showed up and began a drunken ramble about how Skjor was too "uptight."

After a few more heated, as well as drunken words, the argument turned into a full-blown brawl. Torvar managed to land three successful and very impressive blows on the old war veteran, but ultimately fell before the more experienced warrior.

"That'll teach you, drunken bastard." Skjor spat. "Piss me off again and I'll nail that mouth of yours shut."

Slowly, very slowly, Torvar rose to his feet and stared right at the balding warrior, "Say what you want Skjor, but it doesn't change the fact that what I said is true," he retorted, "The only reason you hate the Harbinger is because you envy him. You envy the fact that he's the new big shot around here, and you're just another follower. You envy his skill in battle, you hate the fact that someone as young as he is could easily best you in combat. But most of all, you envy the fact that Aela and the others give him more attention that you!"

By the time Torvar had finished the insults he was hurling, Skjor was already upon him. He pulled his arm as far back as he possibly could, putting as much power in his punch as he could muster, and released the strike. Torvar braced himself, expecting to be knocked unconscious, but the blow never came. He looked up and saw the Harbinger, standing in front of him with Skjor's fist in an iron grip.

"That's enough. Stop it," the Harbinger ordered, his tone low and dark, yet brimming with authority.

Skjor ripped out of the young Nords grip. "This has nothing to do with you, boy. Beat it."

"I said… that's _enough_." he repeated

The two warriors stood as silent and still as a statue, glaring at one another. By this time all the residents of Jorrvaskr were present and watching the scene unfold. Aela, Vilkas, and Farkas were now on their feet, ready to stop either of the warriors if they got to out of hand. Brawling among the Companions was common, Athis and Njada fought with each other an a regular basis, and Vilkas and his brother have come to blows before. Even Aela and Ria once had a short fight. But this was different. A fight between the Harbinger and Skjor had to potential to turn into something deadly, as did most fights between people who hated each other.

"Tch, whatever. He's not worth the effort." Skjor sneered as he turned and walked out the open area doors.

The Harbinger turned his attention to Torvar. "You alright?"

Torvar nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about it. Thanks by the way."

The Harbinger opened his mouth reply but found his words cut short.

"Harbinger, are you heading out somewhere?" the question came from Aela.

He gave a quick nod. "Yes. To High Hrothgar."

Farkas looked confused. "I thought you already spoke with the Greybeards. Why do you need to go back?"

"Its… complicated, Farkas. I have questions that only the Greybeards can answer. Maybe then I can find a measure of peace."

The last part of his sentence as well as the look of fear on his face alarmed Aela and the others, they had never once seen him look as frightened as he did now.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine." the young warrior assured them. "We'll need to reschedule the Circle's meeting for another day. Until then, Aela, I'm leaving you in charge for the time being."

The Huntress stared at him for a moment, wondering what was going through his head before she answered. "Yes, Harbinger."

With one final nod, the Harbinger turned and walked out the door.

-_Whiterun Stables_-

"Gods I'm bored," the carriage driver said to no one in particular, "Nothing interesting ever happens around here. And I ain't had a customer all day."

As he finished speaking he felt the back of his cart shift and become much heavier. Turning around, he saw a young man clad in steel armor and wearing two twin katana on each side of his hip climbing on board. The boy was young, no more than twenty-four or twenty-five years of age. He had neck length light brown hair, rough facial hair, and midnight blue eyes.

"Here's twenty septims," he said handing the man a fistful of gold. "Now, take me to Ivarstead."

**A/N: Finally finished this damn chapter, and man, it wasn't easy. First I get sick and am unable to concentrate on typing anything up, then when I get better, guess what? You guessed it, I got writers block. Needless to say, I'm happy how this came out, well sort of, I wanted to get done so bad that I kinda rushed the ending a bit. Still, it came out better than I expected, so I'm content. Anyway, I wanted to answer this question before somebody asks it, yes Skjor is alive and well(though you probably already guessed that.) I decided not to kill him off because even though I hate the guy, he never really gets enough attention, so I guess I'll give him some. Anyway, leave your reviews and don't be afraid to send me a PM. Next Arc, we finally learn the identity of our nameless protagonist. Stay tuned!**

**Zero out.**

**Next story Arc: Acceptance1 **


	5. Acceptance 1

Skyrim: Legend of the Dovahkiin

Acceptance 1

Vilkas stood facing his brother, his shield held level with his face in a defensive stance. Beads of sweat rolled from his forehead all the way down to his strong chin and finally, the ground beneath him. His blade bore the tell tale signs of a hard days worth of training and would more than likely need to be brought to Eorlund at the Skyforge for repairs. His shield, as strong and durable as it was, also bore the scars of heavy training, and would also need repair. His steel wolf armor was battered and heavily dented, there was even a large gash from the shoulder all the way to the stomach area where Farkas had managed to penetrate his armor with a power attack.

Farkas on the other hand, was doing better than his brother had even expected of him. It was known that out of the two brothers, while both were highly skilled warriors, Vilkas was the superior fighter, as he would use both his brain as well as his brawn. But today, Farkas seemed to be using his brain as well, something Vilkas and everyone else who was watching took note of. Farkas was the type of warrior who would use his skill with a great-sword in conjunction with his brute force to completely overpower his opponent and end the battle quickly. Today, however he was using a whole new skill set. Rather than overwhelming his opponent with powerful single blows, he would strike, then quickly pull the blow and deliver yet another attack. These strikes were more to keep an opponent distracted and set them up for a fatal final blow.

Unlike most warriors who used two handed weapons, Farkas was fast. Most who used such a weapon class often sacrificed speed for power, but Farkas had trained so well and had mastered the weapon to such an extent that he maintained an unnatural speed with the blade, allowing him to easily outmaneuver any opponent.

The brothers stood opposite each other, both in perfect battle stances, staring each other down. Then, Vilkas attacked. He dashed forward and delivered a powerful downward blow. Farkas, seeing the attack coming, raised his blade and parried the blow. What he didn't see was the follow up attack of his brothers shield-bash directly to his face. Farkas staggered and Vilkas followed up his assault with a boot to his brothers midsection, knocking him to the ground. Rolling back to his feet, Farkas darted forward and delivered a powerful upward slash, the attack nearly connecting with his siblings chin. The brothers continued their training exercise for a good ten minutes before they finally tired each other out.

"You've improved brother," Vilkas complimented as they strode over to the outside dining area. "Its good to see you using your brain for once."

Farkas gave a light chuckle. "I've been relentless in my training, learned all kinds of new tricks."

The siblings each took a seat and removed their armor from the waist up, letting the cool Skyrim air rush over their muscular bodies.

"Well said, ice brain," Aela interjected. The two brothers looked over to where she was seated. "I was very impressed with your skill today, you were in rare form."

The brothers stared at each other for a moment before they threw their heads back in laughter. Aela was never really one to openly praise another warrior for their skill, much less tell them outright. She frowned and glared at the two siblings who continued to laugh even harder than before, much to her annoyance.

"You find my words amusing?" the Huntress growled, curling her hand into a fist.

Vilkas noticed this and slowly ceased his laughter, he had to, otherwise he'd be kissing the Huntress's fist. If there was one thing any member of the Companions knew not to do, it was screw with Aela the Huntress. While she was usually silent and kept to herself, she was a raging tempest when angered, something Torvar had discovered the hard way.

Aela had just returned to Jorrvaskr after a week long job in Falkreath and, while happy to be back home, was in no mood for the company of others. She was sitting near the fire in the mead hall when Torvar, in one of his drunken stupors, made the fatal mistake of grabbing the Huntress's behind. She responded by breaking the mans wrist along with every finger on his hand, she then warned him that if he ever touched her again, she would cut off his most valuable asset. Since then, Torvar never so much as looked at the woman, much less touch her.

"Apologies sister, I did not mean to offend," Vilkas said, still laughing a bit. "It just surprises me is all, the way you compliment my brothers abilities that is."

Farkas crossed his arms and nodded his head. "I have to agree with Vilkas. You've almost never complimented anyone, Not even the Harbinger."

Aela rolled her eyes. "If you like me insulting you so much, then I take back what I said before. You're an idiot who rushes into battle head first like an inexperienced whelp on his first battle and will probably be killed by some milk-drinking mage. Is that better ice brain?"

Farkas was silent, his head hung slightly low and Aela wondered if she had actually managed to hurt the Nord's feelings, if that was even possible. Then, he laughed. A good hearted, strong laugh, one that caught the Huntress by surprise.

_Gods, I've never heard him laugh this much before. It's almost scary._

"I really don't see the humor behind my words." She deadpanned.

"We're not laughing at your words, sister," Vilkas assured her. "Rather, we laugh at your change in attitude."

"My attitude remains the same as it always has!" Aela spat, slamming her fist onto the table. "Nothing about me has changed, at all!"

Vilkas and his brother shot her a questioning look, Aela simply leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

"Stare all you want, but I'm telling you I haven't changed. Not in the slightest."

Vlikas grabbed his armor and threw it over his shoulder. "Whatever you say sister, whatever you say." he said in a mocking tone of voice. Farkas gathered his things and followed his brother, leaving the Huntress to her thoughts. She didn't understand those two sometimes, one minute they were the most serious no-nonsense pair you ever laid eyes on, and the next they were laughing their heads off and poking fun at you. The Huntress let out a heavy sigh.

_Men…_

But truth be told, Aela had changed - no matter how much she tried to deny the fact. She changed so much, her attitude, her temperament, her outlook on life… everything. Even her personal feelings towards…

_Ugh, what am I thinking…_

She was reading to much into the situation. It wasn't just herself, but all the members of the Companions who had changed. Ria had shown remarkable improvement in her ability to handle herself in battle, a far cry from a month ago when she could barley stand against a bear. Athis had become an even better knife fighter and improved his skill in stealth quite a bit, a fact he religiously boasted about. Even Torvar had become less of a drunken fool than he originally was, but only a little. It was all so… strange. Ever since the new Harbinger had joined their ranks everyone within the walls of Jorrvaskr seemed to just… change, mostly for the better.

Their reputations had changed as well. Most in Whiterun, and all over Skyrim for that matter saw the Companions as little more than sell-swords, no better than the bandits or thugs that dotted the lands. But after their newest recruit became the Harbinger, everything changed. People began to see that they weren't just thugs looking to make coin every chance they got, but fierce, honorable warriors who were more than deserving to carry on the legacy of the Companions. She smiled, for the first time in a long while things were actually looking up for them. Then she remembered: the Silver Hand. They were, although a minor one, still a problem for the Companions and needed to be dealt with soon, especially since their leader escaped.

The memories of Gallows Rock came flooding back, the infiltration, the battle with Krev, and Skjors brush with death - everything. She shuddered when she recalled the image of Krev driving his sword through Skjor's chest, how her long time friend slouched and fell to the ground in a pool of his own blood. In an attempt to save him, Aela had foolishly rushed at the werewolf hunter, fully intent on ending his life, only to be cut down by one of his lieutenants who had been hiding amongst the shadows. Krev taunted her, calling her and the rest of her comrades abominations. He would have killed her had it not been for their Harbinger, who arrived just in the nick of time after getting lost within the Silver Hand fortress, something Aela later punched him in the jaw for.

The boy was amazing, she had to admit. He charged head-long into the multitude of werewolf hunters, cutting down any and all who dared to stand in his path. Krev and his best men moved in to subdue the boy but found themselves fighting a losing battle. The blue-eyed Nord weaved in and out of the group of Silver Hand, killing anyone who made the mistake of taking him on. It was an incredible sight. The way he swung his katanas, the movement of his body, his speed and precision, his graceful yet powerful footwork, his ferocity in battle... everything.

Realizing who she had started to think about, the Huntress pushed the thoughts from her mind. There were more important things to worry about, like finding Krev and the rest of the Silver Hand.

"Death will come to you, Krev." she whispered "Its only a matter of time."

-_High Hrothgar path_-

The Harbinger watched as the snow troll gurgled and fell to the floor dead. He took one final look at his surroundings, making sure that there weren't any of the beasts left before he sighed and sheathed his katanas. He continued his ascent up the seven thousand steps, pushing forward to his desired destination: High Hrothgar. As he pressed forward his mind began to wander back to the first time he climbed the mountain, back to when he first met the Greybeards, back when they told him of his destiny. Dragons had returned to Tamriel and along with them, the worst one of all… Alduin. His presence in the fourth era signaled the end of the world, the end of Tamriel, and even Nirn itself. However, as dire as Alduin's return was to Nirn, it was not without hope.

_When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world_

_When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped_

_When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles_

_When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls_

_When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding _

_The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn._

The Greybeards had told him of the Dovahkiin… the last Dragonborn. A single individual gifted with the same incredible powers held by the dragons themselves. An individual that would rise to fight against Alduin and assure the world's survival.

The Harbinger scoffed, he never believed such things in his entire life, it was absurd! Sure the dragons were powerful creatures but they weren't invincible, after all, he had killed one just a month prior; though it went completely unnoticed. But despite these doubts, the young Nord knew deep in his heart that there was truth to what the Greybeards told him, namely the revelation that he was the Dragonborn.

After he killed the dragon in the wilderness after escaping from Helgen something strange happened, something he still couldn't explain. The dragon had suddenly started to burn immediately after its defeat, then, there was a rush of wind that flooded his body. He felt… good, like a great weight he had been carrying had been taken off his shoulders and tossed aside, he savored every minute of it. Then as quickly as it came, it passed, and he found the dragon had turned to nothing but bone. He smirked when he remembered taking the three dragon bones and two dragon scales that he had found on the corpse, those things would sell for a lot of coin, but they were so damn _heavy_.

The Harbingers thoughts were interrupted when yet another snow troll jumped off a small cliff and tried to crush him with its full body weight, a fatal mistake. The young Nord dove to the right, avoiding the sneak attack, the beast roared in anger and charged forward. The Harbinger drew one of his katanas and took a defensive stance, baring his teeth. The troll roared as it swung a mighty overhead blow, the Harbinger ducked the attack and countered with a quick spinning slash to the monsters belly, disemboweling the creature. It made a futile attempt to put its spilled guts back inside its stomach before collapsing dead in the snow. Looking up, he saw at least five more trolls and two Frostbite spiders surging towards him. A vicious smirk formed on the edges of his lips and a feral snarl soon followed. Drawing his other blade, he darted forward, yelling battle cries as he engaged the deadly group of enemies. He was in a hurry to Hrothgar, and these creatures were in his way. He would make sure they suffered for it.

-_Skyrim_-

The Stormcloak soldiers strode about the camp performing their assigned duties. Some kept watch around the perimeter, looking for any signs of an imperial ambush. Others looked over battle maps, planning out attacks and looking over potential ambush spots. Among these soldiers was Norring, one of the Stormcloaks newest recruits. He had joined soon after the Jarl of Windhelm, Ulfric Stormcloak, returned after escaping from Helgen. He looked down at his outfit and smiled, the reality that he of all people was a member of the Stormcloaks, a true son of Skyrim.

The Imperials were spineless cowards who catered to every whim of those damn Elves, the Thalmor and the Dominion. Norring clenched his fist as he thought more about the injustices the Dominion brought about, namely the ban on worshiping mighty Talos. Its was absurd, the Elves couldn't stomach the fact that a man had risen to become one of the mighty divines, so in response, they banned his worship. Norring however took pleasure in knowing that when the war was over, when the empire was defeated and Ulfric was sitting on the throne as high king, the Thalmor that wandered Skyrim looking for worshipers of Talos. Would be slaughtered soon after. He practically salivated at the very thought.

His happy thoughts were cut short when an earsplitting roar ripped through the silence of the wilderness. Norring jumped at the sound, drawing his blade as he franticly searched the sky for the source of noise. The men around the camp followed suit, some drawing blades, others readying arrows. A deathly silence fell over the camp, the tension so thick it could be cut. Then, it struck. A gigantic black dragon covered from head to toe in sharp spikes landed on top of the camp, killing many of the soldiers underfoot. The few remaining Stormcloaks ran at the creature and attacked, trying desperately to kill the thing. The dragon opened its mouth and snatched away a soldier who made the mistake of getting to close to his head. He tossed the man aside, turning to a group of three more soldiers slashing away at his hind legs, futile. The dragon reared its head back before unleashing a massive torrent of fire, the soldiers didn't even have time to scream before they were burnt to nothing but ashes. More Stormcloak rebels charged the dragon, shouting curses and war cries as they ran.

The Dragon simply laughed. "**Hio nis krii ahrk dov, meyes joore!"**

The Dragon continued its unstoppable rampage, killing and crushing all the foolish mortals who dared stand against its power. Norring was the only remaining soldier left. He stood, shaking, quivering at the death and destruction that was the dragon before him. The beast turned to face him, glaring at the worthless mortal, savoring the smell of fear that radiated off the human. The dragon inched closer and closer until it stood so close that Norring could feel the monsters very breath upon his face. It stood silent, staring at the petrified man standing before him. Norring was afraid; afraid, to speak, afraid to move, afraid to even breath.

The dragon lifted its head in the air and spoke, "**Zu'u Alduin! Faas zu Joore!" **

Norring let out a brief scream before the World-Eater opened his maw and ripped the man to shreds. Alduin scanned the area, surveying the carnage he had just inflicted upon the worthless humans. He roared in the air in triumph before spreading his ebony wings and taking flight east, intent on bringing doom upon anything that crossed his path.

**A/N: Well, I'm finally done with this chapter, took longer than I expected. Anyway, to answer questions that people probably have, I'll answer them beforehand. In this story, after the protagonist escaped Helgen, he didn't go to riverwood and then straight to Whiterun. He actually ended up going out into the wilderness and fighting a dragon that was passing over the area. After absorbing its soul he just kinda ignores the whole thing and spends the night in the wilds. It isn't until the next morning that he heads to Whiterun and joins the Companions. At this point the hasn't even gone into Bleak Falls Barrow yet, as he was busy doing the Companions quest line. It's a weird series of events and really kinda backwards, but I was going for something different, not the same old story over and over again. Anyway, more will be explained in the later chapters and I swear I WILL reveal the nameless protagonists name soon. Anyway, comments are welcome(no flaming) and feel free to leave a PM. Until the next chapters.**

**Zero out **


	6. Acceptance 2

Skyrim: Legend of the Dovahkiin

Acceptance 2

Ralof let out a heavy sigh as he entered the palace of kings, finally glad to get out of the damn cold. He had spent about most of the day patrolling the city with nothing of note happening, nothing ever happened in Windhelm. He strode past the long dining table that sat in the center if the throne room, saluting his fellow Stormcloaks as he went. The palace always intrigued him no matter ho many times he would go in, the floors were covered in blue royal carpeting made from a rare material. The walls were draped in the typical blue banner that adorned 'The Bear of Eeastmarch.'

He was so fixated on the castle's interior that he almost didn't hear one of the soldiers calling out for him.

"Hey! Ralof! Over here!"

Ralof smiled, easily recognizing the voice calling to him as that of his old friend, Svog. The blond haired Nord turned and walked to meet his comrade.

"Svog my old friend, its been Ages!" Ralof said as he gripped the mans forearm in greeting. "How've you been?"

"Fine my friend," he replied as he returned the gesture. "Just fine. How are things outside, cold enough for you?"

"A Nord doesn't let something like the weather get to him," Ralof said with a smirk on his lips, "Besides, the both of us are practically immune to such things."

The two friends laughed as they sat down, finding humor in their childish banter. They had done such things since they first met one another. Joking, poking fun at themselves or each other, engaging in immature conversations that made most of the other rebels admittedly uncomfortable. But that was just how they did things, it was their way of dealing with the pressure and stress of war. Of the constant fighting.

"So is it true?" Svog suddenly asked. "Was Helgen truly destroyed by…" he swallowed. "A dragon."

Ralof's smile disappeared at the very mention of the beast and his eyes fell to the ground. "Yes, it was." he said.

Svog raised an eyebrow, was that…sadness he heard in his voice? He had known Ralof for well over three years and had never once seen the man express any emotions that had to do with sadness, it was almost creepy, seeing his friend in such a state.

Svog placed a hand on his friends shoulder. "Ralof…what happened at Helgen?"

The blonde haired Nord took a deep breath and exhaled, he then told his friend of the events that unfolded at the small settlement. How he and the rest of the Stormcloaks walked into an Imperial ambush, how they captured them and sentenced them to public execution, and the mysterious youth he encountered. It was funny, despite all that happened that day, there was a moment of humor in it all. Along with himself, Ulfric, and the other Stormcloaks, a young Nord had also been captured in the ambush. He apparently was crossing the border between Cyrodiil and Skyrim when he was caught and rounded up along with the rest of the Stormcloaks. When they arrived in Helgen and were taken to the headsman's block, it had been reveled that the boy wasn't even on their list of people who were set to be executed.

The Imperials however ignored their list and sentenced him to the block along with the Ulfric and his Stormcloaks anyway, and that's when the trouble started for them. The young Nord flew into a state of pure disobedience, ignoring their orders, shouting expletives at General Tullius, even punching the captain in her nose. He continued his streak of insubordination for well over twenty minutes, much to the delight of the Stormcloaks, who found the entire ordeal very humorous, laughing with delight.

Even Ulfric laughed once or twice during the spectacle, but the most shocking moment of it all was when the boy spit in the face of Thalmor Emissary of Skyrim, Elenwen. Her escort of soldiers along with three legion officers proceeded to violently beat the boy to the ground, then picked him up and pummeled him even more. Ralof was stunned at the boy's courage. He had been a soldier for most of his adult life and had seen many things, some he wished he had never even witnessed. But in all the time he had been serving, he had never seen anyone do what he had just saw, spitting in the infamous Elenwen's face. But even after they beat him, even after they threatened to take him back to their embassy for interrogation, even as they struck him with a lightning spell at pointblank range, even as they kicked him while he was on the ground…he remained defiant.

He looked the Imperials and the Elves dead in their eyes with nothing but hatred raging within his own. The young Nord had unknowingly gained a measure respect of both Ralof and that of Ulfric Stromcloak himself. Then, as they forced him to the block…it happened. A large, jet-black dragon descended upon them and proceeded to destroy everything in its path.

"And…that's pretty much how it went down. I still cant believe it, and I was there!"

Svog sat stunned, his mouth slightly gaping. Had it been any other man who told him this tale he would have thought they were downing bottles of skooma en masse, but Ralof wasn't just some dumb soldier, he was a friend that could be trusted.

"Incredible…a dragon," Svog uttered. "A real live dragon, such a creature hasn't been seen since before the time of Tiber Septim. I assumed they had been killed off during the human-dragon wars, and I believed even that to be nothing but a legend."

"They're real," Ralof assured him, "As real as you or anyone in this palace. As real as Talos himself."

Svog and Ralof sat in silence, unsure of what to even speak. Things were happening so fast it was making their heads spin, and it didn't show any sign of slowing down anytime soon. The war, the constant fighting, and now…dragons. Ralof grabbed a bottle of cold mead sitting in front of him and took a long, desperate draft. He downed its contents and tossed it to the side before running a weary hand down his face.

"Talos…help us all."

-_High Hrothgar path_-

The Harbinger grunted in pain as an ice wraith dug its frozen fangs into his forearm, chilling his limb to the bone. He slashed at the creature, cutting its head from its snake like body before stomping on it frozen pile of remains. Seeing no other immediate threats he sheathed his weapons and pressed forward, ignoring the pain of his many wounds. It was night when he had arrived in Ivarstead the previous day, so he decided that it would be best if he made the trip to see the Greybeards early the next morning. He had expected the trip up would take at least till midday but with the constant barrage and waves of enemies in his path, it had instead taken a full day. The Harbinger cursed silently to himself as he trudged through the thick snow, he hated traveling through the stuff at night. A sharp pain suddenly jolted through his left shoulder. The young Nord fell on one knee, clutching his wounded appendage.

_Shit…I must've been wounded worse than I thought. Damn trolls…_

Regaining his bearings, the Harbinger got back on his feet and continued forward. He regretted not bringing any essentials along for his trek up the mountain, something he wound never again repeat. It was common knowledge that the path to High Hrothgar was treacherous and especially dangerous for anyone who went unprepared. The path was a hazard in itself, as many of the pilgrims who attempted to make the climb often fell to their death or met their end by the freezing temperature. The Harbinger smirked at the thought, the mountain was truly the ultimate test between man and nature.

"_Dovahkiin_"

The Harbinger froze dead in his tracks. "There it is again," he muttered. "That damn whisper."

"_Dovahkiin_"

The young warrior continued forward, practically jogging as he hurried to the ancient home of the Greybeards.

"_Dovahkiin_"

The Harbinger broke into a full sprint as he again heard the call of the Greybeards and the rumble of Nirn that came with it. His wounds screamed at him, begging for him to cease the strenuous act of running, but he did not. He could not. He had questions he knew only the old masters of "The Voice" could answer. Answers that he desperately needed.

"_Dovahkiin_"

The freezing wind cut against his unprotected face as he ran even faster than before, the sound of the wind howling in his ears as he picked up speed. Then he saw it, the ancient home of the Greybeards, he had finally arrived at High Hrothgar. The Harbinger stood in place, taking in the breath he lost during his long sprint. He swallowed, then walked up the steps and into Hrothgar.

He walked in slowly, casually gazing around the ancient hall. The Harbinger frowned as he sauntered along, just being inside the building filled him with a sense of…belonging, like he was supposed to be there. He felt as if he were truly at peace with himself, as if the burdens of his life had been lifted and cast aside. He despised it.

"Welcome, Dovahkiin. You've returned, as I knew you would."

Snapping out of his thoughts, the Harbinger looked forward and saw none other than the leader of the Greybeards standing in front of him.

The young Nord narrowed his eyes. "Arngeir."

-J_orrvaskr_-

Ria downed the last of her mead then tossed the bottle aside before grabbing another. Jorrvaskr was ablaze with the sound drunken rambling and joyous merrymaking after the successful purge of Silver Hand remnants in Swindlers Den. Ria, along with Njada and Athis had been selected by the members of The Circle to act as back up for the attack in case any of the Silver Hand grunts attempted escape. The battle was brief and hadn't lasted very long as the only Silver Hand Agents that inhabited the cave were lesser members, most likely new recruits acting as spies to keep an eye on the Companions.

Ria never understood the fierce hatred between the Companions and the Silver Hand, what was it that drove the two groups to loath each other so much? She often wondered if the members of The Hand were once men and women who had been rejected by the Companions and were seeking revenge, but if that were true, then why were there so many of them? The Silver Hand were large in number and the Companions weren't the sort to just take any whelp off the streets, and they almost always refused anyone with aspirations of joining, being that most people who wanted to join were nothing more than admirers and would-be adventurers, not real warriors.

Ria had faced the members of the Silver Hand before and knew that even the lesser members were not pushovers, they knew how to hold their own in a fight, so she scratched "rejects looking for payback" off her list.

Another theory she had was that the Silver Hand were out to make a name for themselves by destroying the Companions and replacing them as the top dogs of the Whiterun hold. That seemed even less likely as the Silver Hand agents never seemed to care about money, profit, or glory for that matter. The only thing they seemed to show any emotion to was the destruction of the Companions. Sighing, Ria shook the thoughts from her head and decided to forget about it and let it be, after all, The Circle had it under control. The party goers were getting even more rambunctious than before, singing loudly, spilling mead on the floor, and drunkenly arm wrestling one another.

Torvar had taken the liberty of inviting a few "old friends" to the celebration with the okay from Aela, hence all the noise and unusual amount of people who were in the mead hall. Aela had been given the duties of the Harbinger while the man himself journeyed to High Hrothgar to consult the Greybeards yet again. Ria found it strange that the old monks would give their Harbinger an audience with them, they were known to be solitary old men, keeping silent and never speaking to anyone. Maybe the Harbinger was so well respected that they found his ear worthy of their words, but whether or not that was true was unknown. She shook again shook the thought from her mind and went back to her business. She sat in a small corner of Jorrvaskr drinking silently, enjoying the tranquility of the hall, despite the noise. The life of a Companion was truly the best.

"You're awfully quiet." Aela said, as she pulled up a seat next to the Imperial.

Ria's head shot up in surprise. "Oh, Aela. I didn't see you there," she squeaked, "I'm just enjoying the moment is all."

The Huntress nodded as she grabbed a bottle of mead on the small table in front of them. She took a quick swig of the honeyed concoction then turned to the Imperial. "I saw how you fought when we assaulted the Silver hand in Swindlers Den." the Huntress revealed, "I was quite impressed."

Ria stared at the Circle member with a stunned expression etched across her face, did Aela just…praise her?

"U-um…uh…thanks," the Imperial stuttered in shock. "I'm just glad I was able to aid The Circle."

"You did more than just lend aid," Aela deadpanned, her emotionless expression never leaving her visage. "You demonstrated that you are more than capable of handling yourself against a large group of enemies, Silver Hand enemies at that." Aela paused and took another swig of her mead.

"Although the agents were lesser members, myself and the other members of The Circle are very impressed with your skill in battle and have decided to consider you as the newest member of our inner ranks."

Ria's mouth gaped at the revelation, this couldn't really be happening could it? The most senior and well respected members of the Companions were actually considering letting her join their ranks, it was quite possibly the greatest thing that had ever happened to her, the other being her joining up with them. Aela carefully studied the Imperials reaction. It was obvious she was overjoyed at being recommended as a new member of The Circle, but she wasn't letting the news go to her head, something Aela toke note of. Her expression was more of shock and surprise than it was excitement, understandable for someone in her position.

It took a moment before the Imperial regained her bearings and fixed her expression to a more presentable one. "I…don't know what to say," she uttered. "I mean, I never expected that I would be considered for such a position. It's a great honor, thank you sister."

Aela waved her hand in dismissal, "Nothing. Its nothing," she assured her. "We must consult the Harbinger before we make our final decision, but I'm sure he will be more than willing to allow you into the inner circle. For now, congratulations."

Ria gave her shield-sister the largest and quite possibly the brightest smile she had ever given, she considered hugging the Huntress but remembered that typical Nord women didn't like to be touched in such a manner by anyone other than family or their husbands, which she was neither of.

"Go, celebrate," Aela insisted. "You've more than earned it, sister."

Ria nodded then sauntered over to the dining table and began conversing with Athis and Njada. Aela watched as the young Imperial mingled with the rest of the drunken party goers, it was obvious that she was enjoying the festivities yet not overindulging in them, something Aela liked about her. The Huntress leaned back in her chair casually, boots pressed against the adjacent side table. Rocking back, she surveyed Jorrvaskr's interior. Torvar and the "friends" he had invited were all in the center of the hall arm wrestling and placing bets on who would win, typical Nordic behavior.

Farkas sat in the corner on the opposite side of her, arms crossed over his chest, he wasn't the type for serious merry making. Skjor was most likely out in the training yards dining area eating alone, he didn't like the fact that non-Companions were celebrating a victory they had no part in. Vilkas was nowhere in sight, he was undoubtedly down in the living quarters resting. She decided that she would use the time on her hands to practice her archery skills in the training area.

Gathering her weapons, she started towards the open area doors when a loud banging noise made her stop and turn towards the front doors. Everyone within the hall immediately stopped what they were doing and looked toward the door as well. They all stood still silent, waiting for it to happen again. When nothing came, they turned their attention back to the celebration. Then, it happened again. Another bang from the doors, even louder than before, then another. What they heard next chilled them to the bone. A growl, a fierce, evil, demon like growl. It was a low, deep, and sinister growl, one that none of them had ever heard. A deathly silence fell over Jorrvaskr, tension so high that one could almost reach out and grab it. As if belched from the very depths of Oblivion, a large pitch black creature came bursting through the door, sending splintered shrapnel flying everywhere.

The creature let out a terrifying roar and charged, claws digging into the ground with each of its strides. Thinking fast, Aela quickly strung an arrow and fired at the creature's chest. The steel arrow bounced off its thick hide and hit the floor, leaving the beast unharmed. One of Torvar's friends drew his sword and charged the creature, shouting as he went. The man took a swing at the beast, putting all his might into the blow, all in vain. The ebony beast caught the blade with seemingly no effort on its part, it lifted the man in the air and in one disgusting move bit the mans head clean from his shoulders. Another of Torvar's allies charged the beast, hell-bent on avenging his fallen comrade.

With one powerful swipe, the creature sent its assailant hurtling clear across the hall. The man slammed into the nearby wall, a sickening crack following soon after. In a show of true power Farkas surged forward and attacked, delivering a powerful horizontal slash to the beast's muscular chest. His strike hit, but the creature seemed to hardly notice. It balled its clawed fist and punched Farkas square in his chest, the warrior flew backwards and hit one of the support beams. He coughed violently, blood spewing each time he did so. Ria and Njada attempted to take the beast on, both women charged forward, putting their attacks together.

They pushed forward, synchronizing their attack, pressing and defending, distracting and striking, fighting as one. Sensing their threat, the creature slashed at the girls, roaring as he swung. The two companions parried the blows and launched a vicious counter attack, slashing the beast across its torso and stomach. The monster absorbed the blows like it were a hand rag and launched a counter attack of its own, attacking the women with a blitzkrieg of claw swipes. The girls lifted their shields, desperate to defend the creature's relentless assault. Tired of toying with its prey, the monster grabbed hold of the Companions shields and ripped them from their grasp. Seeing their lack of defense, the beast attacked. It grabbed Njada by the throat and hurled the Nord through the training area doors, Njada bounced on the ground twice before she slid to a stop and ceased to move.

"Njada!" Ria tried to go to her friends side but was scooped up and dangled by her left leg. The creature stared into the eyes of the Imperial woman, its lips curled upward in a sinister grin. Ria helplessly dangled upside-down, terrified as she locked eyes with the creature. Her entire body was shaking, something the creature took notice of. It opened its mouth revealing rows of razor sharp teeth and slowly raised the Imperial over its gaping maw, intending to bite the young woman's head off.

A ferocious, feral cry ripped through the walls of Jorrvaskr, The moster turned its head towards the sound and was sacked by a large werewolf, causing it to release Ria from its grasp. The two beasts hopped back to their feet and slowly circled each other, one sizing the other up. Aela took a quick glance at the werewolf and noticed its left eyes was white, it was Skjor. They growled at each other, hatred spilling from the bestial sounds they produced. Using the distraction, Aela rushed forward and took Ria away from the creature. The young Imperial was unconscious, but alive, much to Aela's releif. By this time, many of the non-Companions were beginning to freak at the appearance the werewolf.

"By the nine…now there's a werewolf here to!?" one of the non-Companions shrieked.

"First that black monster and now this!?" another yelled.

"We cant take on that monster and a werewolf!"

"Be quiet!" the men turned to see none other than Vilkas observing the the battle, "Just shut your mouths and watch. We needn't lift a finger, that werewolf will take care of that creature."

"Are you insane!?" one of the men shouted, "It'll tear us apart once it kills that…thing. If it can kill it that is."

"Vilkas is right." Farkas stated as he walked up to the group of warriors, "There's no need to worry, that wolf is will tear that beast apart."

Out of all the members of The Circle, Skjor was known to be the most powerful in his wolf form and could easily best even the strongest of opponents when transformed. Then, out of the blue they attacked. Everyone around them watched the horrific scene play out in front of them. Whatever minds that had been inside these beasts seem to vanish as they ripped and slashed at each other. Claws left deep gashes. Talons rending flesh from bone. Fangs bit and tore. Their fight had descended into something animalistic and everyone in Jorrvaskr knew if they tried to engage the two, they would be torn limb from limb by either monster. Then just as quickly as it had started…it ended. The creature grabbed old of Skjor's throat and tossed him out into the training area, it let out a savage cry and darted off in pursuit of the wounded werewolf.

"Don't let it get away!" Aela shouted as she released an arrow. The shot missed the creature's skull by mere inches as charged after Skjor.

Vilkas and his brother ran in pursuit of the monster, intent on slaughtering the dark abomination. Skjor, who was still in his wolf form, struggled to get back to his feet, but the monster had other plans. The demon took Skjor by the throat, slammed the man against a nearby wall, and pummeled him to a bloody pulp. The monster ceased its brutal assault and stared down at its defeated opponent, surprisingly, Skjor hadn't reverted back to his human form. Just as the demon prepared to deliver a final blow, Vilkas and his brother attacked from behind, slashing at the beast's backside. Roaring in anger, it spun around and swatted the two brothers away, they flew backwards and slammed into the pavement, hard. The creature bounded towards them in an attempt to finish them off.

With the fury of a hunting goddess, Aela unleashed a flurry of arrows, each one finally lodging in the creature's torso. The monster's eyes widened as if surprised that the arrows had actually pierced its hide, Farkas noticed a silver band around the Huntress's finger and smirked. He had seen her use the ring in the past on their hunts, it was enchanted to increase the force and power of her already powerful bow. Farkas jumped back to his along with Vilkas, the three senior Companions closed in on the monster. With unheard of speed, the beast darted for the wall by the training dummies, cleared the barrier, and vanished into the darkness of the night. Aela fired two arrows at the beast, but her target was to swift and escaped into the wilderness of Skyrim.

"What in Oblivion was that thing?" Farkas asked as he sheathed his great sword. "We cut it over and over again, countless times. But it just shrugged off our attacks like they were nothing."

Aela shook her head. "I don't know, but now's not the time to worry about it. We've got bigger problems," she pointed over to where the still transformed Skjor lay bloodied and beaten, barley clinging to life.

"By the gods, I'm surprised he's able to maintain his transformation with all those wounds." Vilkas whispered, taking care not to let any of the other people around hear him.

"He knows that he cant let anyone see him like this," Aela explained. "He's trying to protect our secret."

"Okay, so what do we do know?" Farkas asked.

"Crowd control," Aela gestured to the men standing behind them. "Farkas, you get all these people out in front where they cant see us. I'll take Skjor into the Underforge so he can revert back to his human form, I'll attend to his wounds the best I can until we can get him proper treatment. Vilkas, Njada was hurt badly when she fought that thing, take her and get her to the healer right away."

"Got it." Farkas turned and began to lead the non-Companion members away.

Vilkas picked up Njada and started for the door but stopped abruptly. "What happened to Ria?" he inquired. Aela could hear a hint of worry in his voice.

"She's okay, I set her down in a corner in the mead hall. She's unconscious, but she's unharmed."

"Alright then, I'll take your word for it."

With that, Vilkas left to find the healer. Seeing no one in sight, Aela scooped the bloody Skjor off the ground and carried him to the Underforge. The second they entered the secret meeting room Skjor returned to his human form. Aela sighed in relief when she looked upon her old shield-brothers wounds, thanks to the thick hide of his werewolf form the creature's attacks hadn't caused severe damage, but he would be in danger if he didn't get immediate medical treatment.

"Damn…" he sputtered, "I thought I had the bastard…"

"Be quiet, save your strength," Aela cautioned, "You were hurt pretty badly." Skjor reached up and put his hand on the Huntress's cheek, causing her to flinch.

"Skjor, what are you doing?" she asked in a monotone voice. Skjor brushed aside a strand of the Huntress's hair aside and simply stared ino her green silvery-green eyes.

Aela frowned. "You know I don't like when you do that."

"I know," Skjor deadpanned. "But I cant help it, your to damn beautiful." Aela sighed, she didn't know if he was being serious or if he was delusional.

"Skjor, stop it. Now," she demanded. "I don't want to start this right now."

The balding warrior smiled and removed his hand, "Just making an observation." Aela grunted at the comment and began to go to work on his wounds. He had long, jagged claw marks across his entire body as well as several dark bruises on his face. All in all, he looked like crap. The Huntress held up her hands and summoned as much magicka as she could and cast a small healing spell on the balding warrior, Skjor let out a releived sigh as he felt the warm magic wash over his body. Aela had never really been interested in any type of magic, she felt that the arcane arts were reserved for weaklings and milk-drinkers, not a proud Huntress like her. That was until their new Harbinger had come along, and showed her and the rest of the Companions the advantage of knowing restoration magic.

She smiled as she remembered the words the man used when he gave them a demonstration.

_When you're out there fighting alone, no ones going to be there to watch your back or patch your injuries. Its better to know a little restoration magic and stay alive than to die wishing you knew even the most miniscule amount._

Their Harbinger really was full of surprises, and still continued to amaze her. He could easily best both Farkas and his brother in a sword fight, was a crack-shot with a bow, demonstrated considerable knowledge in the arcane arts, and was damn good at stealth tactics. The boy was really a very well rounded warrior. Aela looked up as the entrance to the Underforge was opened and Vilkas walked in.

"So, how is he?" he asked straight away.

"He'll be fine for now," she replied. "but we've got to get him to the healer soon."

"Alright then, put his arm over my shoulder and I'll help you carry him."

They hoisted the heavy man up and strode out of the Underforge and towards the Whiterun healer. Aela noticed that most of the other people who had been in Jorrvaskr were out by the old Gildergreen tree conversing with one another, no doubt about the events that had just transpired.

"How's Njada?" she asked as she glanced at her ally. "Is she going to be okay?"

Vilkas nodded. "She'll be fine," he reassured the Huntress. "She suffered some broken bones, but nothing to serious. The healer said she'd be back on her feet by tomorrow."

Aela nodded and dropped the subject. Her thoughts were ablaze like a fire in her mind, tonights events were by far the strangest of occurences that had happened by far. The creature was tougher and far stronger than anything she had ever encounted before, even giants never gave her so much trouble. A scowl slowly formed on her war-painted face, she knew that this was the beginning of something that would rattle the very foundation of the Whiterun hold. Wether or not she would be stronge enough to survive the coming storm, was unclear.

* * *

**A/N: Here again, here again. Well that's yet another chapter finished, and I gotta say, it was sort of difficult. The part where the Harbinger was hearing the Greaybeards whisper to him was kinda random, but it fit so I decided to keep it. The chapter itself was kind of a slow and unfulfilling one, I didn't really know where I should start off so I just decided to chose Windhelm because I didn't really do anything with Ralof or Ulfric. I got a PM from someone that asked me when I would be touching down on the relationship between the Harbinger and Aela, and to answer, not for a little while. I kinda wanna give some insight between Aela and Skjor's relationship first. Lastly, I decided to add a little twist to the story with that random monster. You guys can probably guess where im going with it. I mean come on, big monster attacking a mead hall? Sounds pretty familiar doesn't it? But I assure you, it plays an important role in the revalation to the main protaganist's identity. Anyway, comments are welcome and don't be afraid to PM me. Till the next chapter.**

**Zero out **


	7. Acceptance 3

Skyrim: Legend of the Dovahkiin

Acceptance 3

"_I don't understand. I never wanted this, any of it!" he shouted, anger and desperation apparent in his voice, "So why… why me?" _

_The Greybeards stood silent, their peaceful visages never unwavering. The Harbinger stared at them, waiting, hoping they would give some kind of answer, some kind of respite from his internal torment. They did not respond. _

_The young Nord clenched his fists. "Answer me!" The Greybeards stood there, silent as a tomb, looking upon the young warrior with pity. For they of all people understood the boy's plight , to an extent. They knew that the boy possessed the ancient power of the dragons, knew that he was capable of projecting his voice into a powerful force, and knew he wasn't ready to wield such a power. They could see it, the internal battle being waged within his very soul. He was confused, frightened, unsure of what the future held for him. But the Greybeards were adamant in their decision, they could give him the answer he sought, he would have to find it on his own._

"_I am sorry, young Dovahkiin." Arngeir said in a low, even tone. "But we cannot give you the answers you seek. That is something you must discover on your own. We can but guide you to the proper path in achieving mastery of your voice, but you must first come to terms with the power that you have been blessed with." _

_The young Nord's expression turned indignant "Blessed? You truly believe that this is a blessing? To have a destiny that is not my own dropped into my lap simply because the gods view me as the most "convenient" of mortals?" _

_Arngeir simply smiled, further confusing the young warrior. No matter what he said to them they never once showed the slightest amount of anger or annoyance at his words, they just... smiled and answered. The Harbinger didn't like it._

"_Whether a gift or a curse is a matter you must decide for on your own. Until then, I must ask that you return to your home and refrain from returning to High Hrothgar until you accept what you are and embrace the power that has been bestowed upon you."_

_The other three Greybeards walked over to different sections of the building and went back to their meditation, leaving Arngeir and the Harbinger alone, much to the young Nord's annoyance. The Harbinger locked eyes with the old monk, blue staring into grey. Then the man spoke._

"_Do not trouble yourself, young Dovahkiin. In time, all will become clear, and when that time comes, you will be ready to begin the mastery of your power."_

_-Ivarstead: Vilemyr Inn-_

The Harbinger sat at a small table at the far end of the Tavern, staring blankly at the tankard of mead in his hands. This had been his third drink of the day, a strange sight to anyone who knew him, considering he almost never touched alcohol. He was never a fan of mead, wine, or drinking in general. Drink clouded the mind and that was never a state to be in when battle came calling, and the Harbinger never knew when he would be called to battle. It had been about four hours since his return from High Hrothger after speaking with the Greybeards, well one of them anyway. All and all, it turned out to be a monumental waste of time.

The Greybeards, or rather Arngeir, hadn't been any help at all in deciphering the meaning behind his strange dreams. All the monk did was repeat the same thing over and over again, infuriating the young warrior. The Harbinger let out a long, exhausted sigh and slid a weary hand down his face before taking a long draft of his drink. His thoughts were dancing around in his head like a raging inferno threatening to burn away his very mind and plunge him into madness. He'd only been in Skyrim for a few months and already trouble seemed to have found its way to his doorstep. He had nearly been executed at Helgen, attacked by two dragons, was nearly killed by the witches of Glenmoril Coven, rid Kodlak White-Mane of his beast spirit and became the leader of the Companions, so to speak.

He laughed at the thought of the "accomplishments" he had already achieved after such a short time, Vilkas had joked that it was because the gods had been watching over him. The Harbinger gave a low chuckle.

_The gods seldom take note of fools..._

He had just started to take another drink from his tankard when the barmaid walked up beside him. The Harbinger took a moment to examine her. She was clearly a Nord, her short blonde hair and deep blue eyes attested to that. She had a nice, curvy figure and beautiful snow white skin. She had an enchanting smile accompanied by a kind demeanor that betrayed her rather seductive appearance.

She gently put her hand on the young warrior's shoulder. "Excuse me milord, but would you like to hear me play my lute?"

The Harbinger opened his mouth to decline the barmaids offer but decided against it at the last second, maybe some music was what he needed to take his mind off of the tiring thoughts.

"That would be nice." he replied, handing the woman five gold coins.

"Many thanks milord. I'll play the best tune I know." she pulled out a small wooden instrument and began to play.

It was a simple yet enchanting tune, one that he hadn't heard anywhere before, it sounded alien, like it originated from an unknown land. The Harbinger found himself lost in the soft melody of the strange song, hypnotized by its strange notes. He moved his chair a tad bit closer to the barmaid, wanting to hear as much of the strange tune as possible. As he found himself more and more captivated by the strange music he felt a sudden sensation of peace wash over him, like he just…didn't care about anything anymore.

The sensation quickly vanished as the barmaid's song finally ended. "That was…beautiful," the Harbinger stammered. "Where did you learn that tune? The Bards College?"

The Barmaid shook her head. "No, from my mother," she replied. She pulled over a nearby chair and sat directly in front of the young warrior. "She gave me this lute when I was but a young lass and taught me how to play. She composed the song herself, said the inspiration came from a dream she had."

"A dream?"

The Barmaid chuckled. "Strange isn't it? We used to jest about it being of some kind of message from the gods."

At this the Harbinger raised an eyebrow. "Used to?"

The woman's head lowered slightly. "My mother died when I was just thirteen." she explained, her tone slightly saddened. "I went from one town to the next, supporting myself by cooking, cleaning, and the occasional flute playing in any of the taverns that needed extra help, and Innkeepers in Skyrim always need extra help."

"You seem to be doing well for yourself." the Harbinger said as he took a long draft of his mead.

"I do alright. Is not the most lavish lifestyle, but it puts food in my belly and a roof over my head."

"You must be popular in the Taverns," the young Nord said. "Especially with the men."

"I have my run-ins with the occasional pigs putting their hands where they don't belong, but nothing to serious."

The two Nords continued conversing with one another for twenty more minutes before the doors behind them burst open and a small group of rowdy Nords walked in. They sat down at the tables near the hearth, ranting and raving about their apparent successful purge of a large bandit gang. The Harbinger grinned.

_Mercs, small timers by the looks of it._

The group of sell-swords consisted of four warriors, all male. Three of the men wore simple hide and leather armor and carried iron swords on their hips. Their leader however sported a very impressive set of full dwarven armor, helmet included. The Harbinger found that rather amazing considering the rarity of the armor and overall difficulty of finding or crafting an entire set, either he'd found stolen it or had somehow saved up enough coin to buy him a full set.

"Hey, barkeep!" one of the men yelled. "A round of your finest ale on the double, and a beef roast on the side, I wanna live it up!"

The Innkeeper muttered something incoherent before turning his attention to the barmaid. "Come here Lynly, I need your help."

The Harbinger gave the barmaid a knowing look. "So, your names Lynly is it?"

The woman smiled. "Aye, it is." she answered as she rose from her seat. "Well it was nice chatting with you, but I must return to my duties."

The Harbinger gave a light nod. Lynly gave him one last smile before she turned and went back to her work. The young Nord slouched back in his chair and returned to his own thoughts, namely the thought of his comrades in Jorrvaskr. It had been a few days since his sudden departure and he was starting to wonder about how things were going at the old hall. It wasn't like him to suddenly run off like he did but with all the strange dreams and voices he'd been hearing, he felt that the Greybeards were the only ones who could give him some kind of answer, which they never did. He let out a low growl before finishing off the last of his mead and placing the tankard on the table. A loud belch erupted from his mouth earning him confused stares from the four mercs and the Innkeeper, Lynly covered her own mouth to keep herself from laughing out loud.

The four mercenaries rolled their beady eyes and returned to their noisy celebration. The farmers and locals of the town started pouring in the tavern and began filling up the vacant seats and benches. The Harbinger had just started to rise from his seat when an empty bottle of mead hit him on his left temple. He turned, a single hand over the area of his head that had been hit, and saw the four mercenaries absently tossing empty mead bottles in his direction. Normally, the Harbinger would have simply shrugged it off and let the men be, but today was not one of those days.

The anger and frustration that had been growing inside him finally reached its peak… he needed something or someone to give vent to his rage, and the four mercenaries were the perfect pick. He picked up the bottle that struck him and casually sauntered over to the table where the sell-swords sat. The leader was in the middle of some clearly made up story about how he had single-handedly taken out a large group of forsworn and two Hagravens over in The Reach, if that were true, his armor would have the tell-tale signs of burn and claw markings.

The Harbinger took the bottle he held and slammed it onto the table were the bandits were sitting, causing them to practically jump out of their skin. One of the men turned to glare at the young Nord.

"Hey! What in the name of Oblivion is your problem?"

"Watch where you throw your garbage next time, fools." the Harbinger growled, making sure they heard the venom in his words.

"I don't know who you think you are kid, but you'd better watch your tongue," another of the mercenaries warned. "Do you have any idea who your talking to?"

The Harbinger looked the man square in the eyes. "By the looks you lot, nobody special."

The tavern patrons were all watching the scene intently, waiting to see what would happen next. Some of the more drunken patrons began to place bets on which one of the mercenaries would be the first to teach the foolish young Nord a lesson.

"Hey, one hundred gold on the sell-swords!"

"Two hundred for me! That kids gonna get it good!"

"You sure suck at picking your fights kid!"

The Harbinger stood motionless, never uttering a single word even as the patrons and mercenaries mocked and jeered him. A tiny smile spread across his lips as he remembered the first time he entered Jorrvaskr over a month ago. The situation he was in now was very similar to the one he was in a month ago when he first met the members of the Companions, before he became their Harbinger. He remembered how Vilkas, Skjor, and most of the other members had instantly labeled him as a milk-drinker. The only exceptions were Aela, Farkas, and Kodlak White-Mane himself. Aela and Farkas waited until after his test with Vilkas to judge his worth, saying that it was unfair to pass judgment on someone who hadn't yet shown what they could do in battle, Farkas agreed with her. But Kodlak saw something in the young warrior that none of the Companions did, something that would later define his character as a person as well as a warrior, something that would inevitably lead Kodlak to pass the title of "Harbinger" to the young warrior. No one ever asked what it was Kodlak saw in the boy, mainly because the wisdom and judgment was never called into question.

Though they never called Kodlak's judgment into question, many of Whiteruns most renowned warriors and the Jarls of the other holds had often openly mocked the young Nord in the beginning, saying that he was to young and inexperienced to lead the Companions. The Harbinger never cared about what the other Jarls or warriors of the hold had to say about him or his age, all he cared for was bringing honor to the Companions and his allies. The young Nord's thoughts were interrupted when one of the four mercenaries stepped up to him.

"Whats with that idiotic smile, huh kid?" the man said, placing a hand on the hilt of his blade.

The Harbinger's smile grew even wider, the idiots were completely unaware of the danger they were in. "I'm not suprised that a mercenary group is this brave when they outnumber someone. This tends to happen amongst fools who cant tell when they're outmatched."

The mercenaries and patrons all threw their heads back and burst into a hysterical laughter, the only exception was Lynly and the Innkeeper who looked on with worried stares. The Harbinger stood motionless, never flexing a single muscle, maintaining his stoical appearance. The leader of the mercenaries stood and started to circle the young Nord, eyeing him like a bird of prey before it moves in for the kill.

"So, you think you can take us on at once huh?" the leader said. "Either you're really brave, or incredibly stupid."

"Only one way to find out."

As fast as a lightning spell the Harbinger threw a straight right punch that impacted with the leaders nose and followed up his assault with a devastating left hook that floored his opponent. Another of the mercenaries let out a loud battle as he rushed forward and threw a wild overhand right. The Harbinger skillfully caught the mans strike with his left hand and countered with a powerful elbow to the mans throat that sent him reeling and left him gasping for air. The other two grunts looked on in disbelief as two members of their group were taken out and tossed aside like common bandits.

The tavern filled with a deathly silence as the patrons looked on in shock and awe at the unfolding brawl, everyone had expected the group of mercenaries to be the ones dishing out serious punishment to the young Nord for stupidly challenging them, but the roles had been completely reversed. The two mercenaries left standing exchanged nervous glances, unsure whether they should run out the Inn and face a beat down from their leader later or stay and get beaten now. Either choice was bad no matter how they looked at it.

"Wait! Just wait a minute!" one of the mercenaries cried out as he held his hands up in a defensive manner. "We get it, you were right, you're stronger than us! We've learned our lesson, so just…don't hurt us, please."

The Harbinger glared at the two mercenaries, his frightening scowl never leaving his visage. "Humph, you're just like the rest of the trash I deal with on a daily basis." he spat. "You act like the greatest warriors this side of Skyrim when you face a opponent weaker than you are or greatly outnumber them. But the second your opponent gains the advantage, you crumble and beg for mercy. And you call yourselves warriors? You'd be better off farming for a living." he turned to face the tavern patrons. "No offence."

"None taken." they said, still in shock over the whole incident.

"Now, here's what I want _you_ lot to do." the Harbinger started as he walked over to the mercenary leader and lifted him up by his collar until the man was level to his face. "I want you to pack all the crap you bastards have and get out of here…now."

"And why should I listen to you, kid." the leader managed to say through his pain, an impressive feat considering how hard he'd been hit. His defiance was shut down as the Harbinger took the mans index finger and pulled it back until it snapped like a twig. The mercenary leader let out a bloodcurdling scream of pain, writhing on the floor in pain and agony.

The Harbinger shot the man a deadly look. "Because if you don't listen to me, I'm going to break the rest of your fingers one by one…slowly."

The two mercenaries who were still on their feet rushed over and scooped up their leader and still unconscious comrade and promptly hurried out of the Inn. Satisfied with himself, the Harbinger walked back to his seat, gathered his belongings and headed for the door. He reached into one of the small satchels on his side, pulled out a bag of gold and tossed it to the Inn keeper.

"For all the trouble." he said as he walked out the door.

Lynly rushed after the young Nord, wanting to speak with him before he left to his next destination. "Wait, milord! I beg a moment of your time before you depart."

The Harbinger turned on his heels and locked eyes with her. She expected him to still have the fearsome scowl spread across his visage but was relieved to see he'd returned to his more friendly look.

"Of course." he answered in a friendly tone of voice. "What do you need?"

"Well I'm… not really sure," she said, unsure of why she had followed the young warrior out in the first place. "I just wanted to ask you if you were ever going to drop by Ivartsead again."

The Harbinger's thoughts returned to his conversation with the Greybeard Arngeir. With everything that had happened to him in the small farming community he honestly wanted nothing more than leave and never return. Ivarstead had been proven to be nothing but trouble for him, Greybeards notwithstanding, and he honestly wanted to put it far behind him. But as he thought more about what the old monk told him, the more he started to believe it, that he would find the answer he was seeking on his own terms. He didn't know if he was ready to find the answer he sought or if he even wanted to find them, but he knew in that instant that if he did, he would be ready to face whatever obstacle they brought forth.

The Harbinger looked Lynly in the eyes and smiled. "Yes," he finally answered. "I'll defiantly be back."

Lynly beamed at the young Nord and smiled one of the most beautiful smiles the Harbinger had ever seen, and he promptly returned the gesture. As the Harbinger turned and started for the road to Whiterun, Lynly called out after him.

"Milord, just… one last question. If you don't mind."

The Harbinger turned around and looked over in her direction. "Of course."

"Well, I want to know, what name do you go by?"

The question caught the young Nord off-guard. It had been years since he had last uttered a single letter in his name, not even his allies at Jorrvaskr knew his true name. When he first joined the Companions he had usually been referred to as 'whelp' or 'recruit' by the more senior members, particularly Skjor. He still remembered the reaction Vilkas had when Kodlak had asked him his name and he responded with a venomous "None of your business."

For him, his name held a very dark and painful past, one that he didn't wish to revisit. Skjor had, on multiple occasions tried to force the Harbinger to reveal his true name to him and the rest of the Companions, but to avail. He was absolutely adamant about keeping his identity a secret from everyone, including Farkas, which was strange considering how close the two were.

The Harbinger sheepishly began scratching the back of his head and gave Lynly a nervous glance. "Well...I've never really told anyone who I am." he said, feeling slightly guilty. "Its not you, its just that…I cast away who I once was years ago. My past, the things I've done, the people I've hurt…I just want to put it all behind me, and my name is one of those things. Im sorry, but I cant tell you who I am."

"I understand." Lynly said, titling her fingers a bit. "I didn't mean to pry, I just wanted to know so I could refer to you as something other than 'milord'

"There is something you can call me." the young Nord told her. Lynly's demeanor lightened up bit. "Just call me Harbinger."

With that, the Harbinger turned on his heels and walked off down the road to Whiterun, leaving behind a very confused Lynly.

"Harbinger? Wait… he cant be…" her eyes widened as she realized who the person she had just been talking to was. She beamed as she realized she had been speaking to none other than the renowned Harbinger of the Companions, a great honor to anyone who was lucky enough to cross paths with the man. She quickly snapped back into reality and headed back to the tavern to continue her days work.

-_Three hours later_-

"Well, it looks like the shoe is on the other foot now eh boys?"

The Harbinger silently cursed to himself as he watched the Mercenary leader from the Inn and his band of about twenty-five heavily armed and armored men and women surround him from all sides. Apparently, the sell-swords group consisted of more than four ill trained fighters, the Harbinger took note of at least five adept level mages within their ranks. He also spotted about three archers in the very back of the multitude of enemies, they would be a problem if he didn't deal with them quickly. He turned his attention back to the Dwarven armor clad leader who stood grinning from ear to ear with his arms crossed over his chest, he was clearly taking great pleasure in watching as his enemy was surrounded on all sides with nowhere to go.

"Not so smug now, are you!" one of the sell-swords shouted

"You fools still don't get it, do you?" the Harbinger spat, gaining him deadly glares from the large group of sell-swords.

Angered at the Nords taunting, the mercenary leader drew his large Dwemer great sword. "You little… you still taunt us, even now!? In case you haven't realized this yet, you're outnumbered twenty-five to one!"

"And even outnumbered as I am… I'm still going to kill every last one of you."

"Pretty bold words coming from a dead man!" one of the sell-swords shouted and he waved his sword in a threatening manner. "Just face it kid, you're dead no matter how you look at it."

The Harbinger let a small chuckle pass his lips. He gazed over the large group of cut throats that surrounded him. They were truly a ragtag bunch, that was certain. Most of them wore simple fur and leather armor, while the other more experienced ones sported the same steel armor he himself wore. They were sloppy and disorganized in their attempt at surrounding him as he saw four openings he could have easily made a break for, but he was not planning on running away, in fact, it was just the opposite. The Harbinger threw his head back in laughter as his plan for killing every one of the mercenaries began to form in his mind, they would never suspect an attack like the one he was preparing for them.

"Is death funny!?" the leader snapped.

The Harbinger quickly regained his composure. "No, it isn't… but I have no intention of dying." The young warrior raised his right hand above his head, snapped his fingers, and unleashed hell.

Large explosions detonated one after another, sending the shredded bodies of their victims sailing through the air before hitting the ground with a loud thud. The Harbinger watched as the rest of the Fire Runes he stealthily set were set off by the now panicking group of mercenaries who were running around in confusion.

"When in Oblivion did he-" the mans sentence was cut short as a bolt of lighting struck him dead center in his face and burned it to a cinder. The two remaining Archers notched their arrows and fired at the young Nord. Already on the move, the Harbinger sent blast after blast of powerful Chain Lighting spells at his opponents, the sheer destructive force of the arcane spell sending all who were hit reeling backwards.

Thinking they could overwhelm him with their numbers, the five mages began to fire their own elemental based spells towards the young warrior. The Harbinger threw up his left had and summoned his most powerful ward shield that repelled each of the spells thrown at him. The young warrior quickly retaliated. Summoning magicka from the dregs of his being, he unleashed his most powerful lighting based spell : Thunderbolt. The spell hit the mage who stood in the middle of the five, instantly disintegrating the man and sent his comrades hurtling in different directions. The Harbinger released three more blasts of chain lightning spells before his magicka made an audible scraping noise and the electricity in his hands fizzed out, something the mercenaries took note of.

"He's out of magicka!" one of the sell-swords shouted, relief and excitement in his voice. "Charge him! We still have superior numbers!"

The young Nord smirked at the arrogant mercenary's snide remark. Hadn't they realized that numbers were meaningless to him? This apparently wasn't the case as four of the sell-swords closest to him charged forward shouting battle cries as they ran. The Harbinger drew his swords and readied himself for the assault, tactfully planning out which of the sell-swords he would kill first. The first mercenary, a large, brutish looking Orc, came first. The Osmir thrust his blade forward, hell-bent on running the foolish Nord through. Expecting this, the Harbinger sidestepped and cleaved the Orc's hand from his forearm, blood flting from the wound. The Orc clutched the stump of what had been his hand, screaming bloody murder before the Nord's second blade found its way to his throat, killing him instantly.

The next mercenary, a lithe looking Dunmer, charged forward, swing his blade around in a wild erratic manner. The Harbinger grinned, the man obviously lacked any real skill, hence his sloppy and undisciplined attacks. The young warrior skillfully dodged each assault, watching and waiting for an instant kill opening on the inexperienced Elf.

"Come on, you milk-drinker!" the ash colored man bellowed, feeling more confident of himself than he should've. "Fight me! Just try to take my life!"

"As you wish." the Harbinger blocked the mans downward strike and responded by sliding his blade across the mans neck. The Dunmer grabbed at his throat in a futile attempt to keep his blood from leaving his body, he fell to the floor and let out one final gasp before he ceased to live. The Harbinger spun around just in time to avoid a battle axe being swung at his head. Growling, the young warrior returned the favor by driving the blade of his katana through the man's skull, the mercenary's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he ceased to move.

The Harbinger booted the man off his blade and darted forward, sword in each hand, and attacked two nearby enemies. The men, thrown off and surprised by the Nord's sudden offensiveness, barley managed to lift up their weapons as the he fell upon them. The Harbinger was a blur of impossibly fast sword movements and the mercenaries found themselves unable to keep up with the relentless assault before the young Nord ended their existence with a final slash to their throats, a fountain of blood erupting from their necks.

"We're routed!" one of the sell-swords shouted, horrified by the slaughter of his comrades. "Fall back!"

The Harbinger glared at the retreating men, his eyes filled with an uncontrollable bloodlust. His breathing was becoming heavier and more ragged with each passing second, his skinned itched, and he felt himself losing touch with everything around him. He felt as if his entire body had been set engulfed in a gout of fire, his fingernails were hurting and his teeth were starting to bleed. Something feral and vicious was now scraping at his brain, pounding against his ribcage in an attempt to break free.

The Harbinger smiled a frightening, terrifying smile, one that was never meant to cross the lips of a normal man. He knew what was happening, he knew all to well the feeling that was now beginning to take over his being-the beast within him had been awakened… and was now begging to be released. He didn't fight the urge. An earsplitting roar ripped through the battlefield, terrifying what remained of the mercenary group. They all watched in horror as the young Nord's body began snap and twist itself into a beast from the darkest corners of Skyrim.

His body ripped and torn at itself. Large claws formed where his hands had once been, and black fur covered his body… he was transforming into a werewolf. The Mercenaries could only stare as the beast slowly rose to its feet and turned to face them. He glared at them with hungry eyes, his lips curling up into what appeared to be a smile, it had been to long since his last transformation and he was intent on savoring the moment of his kill. The Harbinger could sense the fear coming from the mercenaries, it practically radiated off their bodies in large fumes. The Harbinger simply glared at the men, unmoving, waiting for one of them to try and make an escape. He found it more enjoyable when his prey tried to escape, tried being the key word.

As if answering his silent prayers, one of the men made a mad dash up a hill, the other mercenaries soon following. The Harbinger let out a blood chilling roar and bolted towards them, intent on killing the whole lot of them. There were times where even in his beast form he could show mercy, times where he could willingly let his prey go…but today was not one of those days. Today…he would kill every one of the arrogant bastards for daring to cross his path. The Harbinger quickly caught one of the Sell-swords and promptly ripped both his arms off before tearing out his throat. He charged forward and captured another, slashing his claws across the mans belly and spilling his guts onto the ground.

It wasn't long until screams filled the sky and the road had been painted red with their blood.

* * *

**A/N: Let me start by thanking everyone who reviewed my story, you guys are the whole reason I keep going. That being said, I sincerely apologize for the late chapter and well…the chapter itself. My heart really wasn't in this chapter at all, in some parts yes, but other than that I didn't like writing this particular chapter. I hope you guys can forgive me for this(in my mind)failure of a chapter and overall lateness of updating. But the upside is that the next chapter I'm planning will be much more interesting and a lot better, I promise. Anyway, reviews and Pms are welcome. Till the next chapter.**

**Zero out **

**P.S. I just noticed i say chapter alot...**


	8. Acceptance 4

Skyrim: Legend of the Dovahkiin

Acceptance 4

Aela suppressed a bored sigh as she and Vilkas stood in the great hall of Dragonsreach. The two Companions had been summoned by Jarl Balgruuf the Greater to discuss the issue of the creature that had been on a destructive rampage in Whiterun for the last three days. After its first attack on Jorrvaskr, the creature had continued to return each night to wreak havoc on the city before assaulting the Companions mead hall, killing anyone who dared to challenge it. The Companions had been successful in driving the creature out of the city, but failed in delivering any serious injury to the monster, as it managed to escape into the night.

Aela furrowed her eyebrows in frustration at the very thought, she had always prided herself on being able to take down any creature that she'd ever come across, be it a docile Elk or a fearsome troll. Yet she was powerless to stop this new threat from terrorizing her home and the city she lived in. It was sickening, to know that even when she an her comrades fought at their best, it still wasn't enough, she was a Companion damnit! She banished the infuriating thought and let her mind rest on the brighter side of things.

Though not able to kill the creature, the Companions had been the only ones who were successful in driving it out of the city, a feat even the Guards of Whiterun could not accomplish, evident by the amount of casualties they had taken. But Aela had to give them credit where it was due, they made up for their lack of skill in battle with their sheer tenacity and the tremendous will-power they all held, a trait she found admirable.

But will-power alone were not enough to win battles, especially against such a powerful opponent. Shaking the thoughts from her mind, Aela turned her attention back to the current situation at hand.

Jarl Balgruuf realized the severity of the situation and called an emergency court meeting. There now stood an entire palace filled with people from all walks of life. Nobles and their personal bodyguards were among the most prominent of the citizens who had answered the Jarls summons, most likely out of fear for than own lives rather than the city and its people. The Jarl's Thanes and their Housecarls were among the many attendees as well. Some of the Thanes were warriors who had accomplished great deeds on the behalf of the Jarl and had been rewarded with the honorary title. The last of the Thanes were simply nobles who had assisted the hold in a lesser and more meager sense, things such as giving large amounts of gold for the recruitment and training of more soldiers for the hold. The last of the citizens in attendance were some of Whiteruns most renowned warriors, some even on par with that of the Companions themselves, or so the nobles said.

Aela noticed one of the aforementioned warriors looking her up and down, gawking at her figure with a stupid smirk on his face. She also noticed, much to her annoyance, that he was paying special attention to her chest. The fool continued taking in the view for a full minute before he noticed the Huntress's eyes on him. The warrior gave a light nod and winked at her, Aela responded by showing him her favorite finger. The man simply laughed and turned his attention back to the Jarl who was currently in a heated argument with one of the nobles.

"But my Jarl, if the creature were to make an attack on the Cloud or Wind District we would have no way to defend ourselves!" whined a slightly obese nobleman. "I ask that you reconsider your decision posting the majority of the guards in the plains district."

"Last I checked you and the rest of the nobles of Whiterun had plenty of able body men to protect you and your homes," the Jarl said in his usual gruff voice. "I see no need to remove any of my men from their posts."

A chorus of collective voices resounded through the walls of Dragonsreach as the nobles erupted in complaint, feeling betrayed by the Jarls decision. They felt that since they were among the elite of the city they were entitled to special treatment, they were wrong.

Aela watched in disgust as the nobles begged and pleaded for the Jarl to go back on his decision to post more guards in the Cloud and Wind districts. She absolutely loathed nobles and the bodyguards in their service, they cared for nothing other than coin and social status, they had no honor at all. The bodyguards were no different than the people they protected, only doing so because they were paid obscene amounts of gold and given absurd benefits. She was more sympathetic towards the Housecarls, they were simply men and women who were doing the jobs for the nobles the Jarl had declared Thane.

"Quite an eccentric lot the Jarl surrounds himself with." Vilks whispered to his shield sibling.

Aela Snorted. "Milk-drinkers, the lot of them."

Vilkas grunted in agreement, the so called "renowned warriors" were nothing special in his eyes, just individuals who were highly overrated and talked about amongst the citizens of Whiterun.

"So, any idea of why we're still here?" Vilkas asked, making sure he was loud enough

Aela shrugged. "Most likely to discuss the ongoing issue regarding the creature that's been ransacking the city and our mead hall."

"That damned monster..." Vilkas growled clenching his fists. The very thought of the beast made the Companion's blood boil, the bastard had attacked his home not once…but three times. Vilkas intended to pay the thing back in full. "What I would like to know is why its so interested in Jorrvaskr. It seems strange how its main focus is on our hall."

"I good inquiry," Aela acknowledged, crossing her arms over her chest. "One that more than likely needs to be further looked into, if we want to prevent further casualties in the city as well as damage to the hall itself."

"Well we'd better figure it out soon," Vilkas huffed. "The Companions cant hold that thing at bay forever."

Aela shot the Nord a vicious look. "Are you saying we're weak?"

"I'm just looking at this from a logical perspective," he explained calmly. "We've managed to repel the beast for the last three nights, but its come at a cost. Njada, Athis, Torvar and Ria were severely wounded during those skirmishes. Their bodies cant keep going on like this, no matter how many health potions they take or how many times they visit the healer, their bodies cant keep taking that kind of punishment."

Aela let out a heavy sigh. As much as she didn't want to admit it, Vilkas was right. In the three nights they had battled with the creature, Ria and the rest of the whelps had been wounded the worst. Though they had been healed of their wounds, the constant battles and lack of proper rest had taken its toll on their bodies, and it was beginning to show. Njada would constantly deny that she was weakening in the slightest, her Nord stubbornness would never let her admit what was obvious. Torvar and Athis had openly voiced the fact that they were beginning to weaken because of the constant battles, they were then subsequently beaten to the ground by Aela for their lack of "resilience." Ria had been the most reserved of the four, never showing any signs of stress or discomfort, never telling anyone about the constant pain she felt. Aela knew that something had to be done. If not, the destruction of the Companions was a very likely possibility.

"I know, brother," Aela sighed, shaking her head slightly. "I just feel that instead of standing around with all these milk-drinking nobles and their blindly loyal servants we could be at Jorrvaskr, planning out a strategy to combat that… thing."

"Aye, that we could," Vilkas agreed. "But we cant just ignore a summons from the Jarl. If we did that, we would-"

"I am done hearing your selfish concerns!"

Vilkas and Aela shifted their attention to the scene unfolding before them. Jarl Balgruuf was now red in the face, glaring daggers at the fat noble who was standing before him, his hands clenched into fists.

"My decision to post the majority of the guards in the Plains district stands!" the Jarl boomed. "I will hear no more of you and your petty pleas for special treatment!"

"But my Jarl, I-"

"ENOUGH! All of the nobles, leave my court at once. I don't want to look at any of you."

The nobles exchanged nervous glances with one another, disbelief in their eyes at being thrown out of the court. Every noble in the court was staring at the Jarl, some in complete shock, others showed obvious signs of anger.

The Jarl gave them a deadly glare. "Are you all deaf? I said OUT!"

Seeing no other alternative, the nobles and their Housecarls quickly turned and began exiting Dragonsreach, some of them sputtering curses under their breath. They continued to pour out of the ancient building until only Aela, Vilkas, the warrior Thanes, and the three mercenaries were left. Balgruuf ran a weary hand down his face as he let out a long, tired sigh.

"Noble cowards... the lot of them." Balgruuf grunted. His Housecarl, Irileth, nodded in agreement.

"They care only for their own well-being and wealth," she said, venom dripping from every word she spoke. "The people of Whiterun are insignificant in their eyes."

The Jarl then turned his attention to the warriors who now stood before him. The first ones he noticed were the warriors of Whiterun he had heard so much about. There were three of them, two men and a woman. The first man, a Redguard, had long jet-black dreadlocks, tribal tattoos across his face and a small piercing on his left eyebrow. He stood clad in a full set of Ebony armor and had a gigantic black battleaxe strapped to his back, giving him the appearance of an otherworldly executioner.

The next warrior, a female Imperial, sported a set of full steel armor and weapons. Her sword shimmered a magnificent glow of orange and red, marking the sword's fire enchantment. Her shield glowed with an eerie ghost-like shade of white, most likely an enchantment of frost resistance to compliment her sword. The woman herself was beautiful in a ruff and tumble sort of way. She had short, wavy hair with a single braid that dangled down the left side of her face. There were also numerous scars that adorned her visage as well as her arms, showing that she had seen battle before.

The last of the warriors was a Nord. He had the typical physical features of his people, long blonde hair, thick muscled frame and a pair of sky-blue eyes. What the Jarl found strange was his choice of attire, the man wore an entire set of Elven armor as well as a sword and shield. It was strange to see a Nord who willingly went into battle wearing anything of Elven make, especially considering most Nords harbored bitter resentment towards all of elven kind. Either he was one of the few Nords who held no grudge against the Elvs, or he just didn't give a damn.

Balgruuf then let his gaze fall onto the warrior Thanes that stood at attention before him. He recognized many of the faces he saw, men and women that had been of great service to the city of Whiterun, they would be useful in this most dire of hours. The Jarl's gaze finally feel upon the two Companions Aela and Vilkas. He had personally requested their presence in the court due to their success of repelling the creature that had been terrorizing the city, among other things. In the past month and a half since their youngest Harbinger had taken over, the Companions had become even more of a force to be reckon with.

Their skill, organization, and overall reputation had increased ten-fold and continued to rise even higher. There was even a rumor that Ulfric Stormcloak and General Tullius had asked them to join their forces, only to be declined by their Harbinger, or so the story went. Balgruuf knew Ulfric had a habit of recruiting skilled warriors to his cause, he probably figured if he could recruit the legendary Companions more of Skyrim's people would rally behind his cause, seeing as how they were followers of the great Ysgramor himself. But Tullius? To think he actually might have considered the Companions to aid him in the war was… strange, to say the least.

Despite this, Balgruuf knew that even if the rumors were true, the Companions young Harbinger would never allow them to go off to war. Though not an official leader, the Companions considered his word law, and followed his orders to the letter. Balgruuf had heard the stories surrounding the boy, and in all honesty-they gave him slight chills. Talk of the boy's skill had spread throughout the hold of Whiterun like wildfire, and continued to grow. The most famous of the stories however was how the young swordsman would engage multiple enemies alone and decimate their forces, often never leaving anyone alive.

Unfortunately, the Jarl had been informed by his Housecarl that the young Harbinger was currently away in Ivarstead dealing with important business and wasn't expected to return for at least two more days. Balfruuf was a bit disappointed, the Harbinger's strength would have been a tremendous aid in the battle to come. Banishing the thought from his mind, Balgruuf rose from his throne and addressed the warriors.

"As you are all aware, time is of the essence," he started, "So you must forgive my rudeness of skipping any formalities. As you know by now, there have been numerous attacks on the city of Whiterun by a large black creature. The city guard has engaged this enemy each time it has attacked. Unfortunately, they have been unsuccessful in slaying the beast, and have suffered heavy casualties."

Balgruuf briefly paused and let his gaze fall upon the warriors. They all stood silently, listening with wrapped attention, eyes never faltering even for a second.

"The Companions," he continued. "Are the only ones who have been able to drive the beast out of the city, an impressive feat when you consider how strong the damn thing is. Furthermore, the creature seems to have a strange attraction to Jorrvaskr, as it likes to frequently attack there the most. Who, or more accurately, what the beast is or wants is currently being looked into at this very moment."

At that moment, the court wizard Farengar Secret-Fire emerged from his study carrying an entire armful of tomes. Aela had met the wizard once before and immediately labeled the scrawny magic user as a milk-drinker. Not only that, but the little cretin was the most Ill mannered and condescending individual she had ever had the displeasure of meeting. She was suddenly reminded of part of the reason she hated wizards.

Farengar stood before the Jarl and bowed before the Jarl in due respect before turning to warriors. "Greetings warriors," the wizard huffed, obviously uninterested in any of the people standing before him. "As I'm sure the jarl has already explained the current situation, I'll skip any unnecessary information that may have already been passed. Due to recent events I have abandoned my research on the mystery behind the return of the dragons. A most unfortunate turn of events, I was quite close to-"

"Get to the point, Farengar." Balgruuf commanded.

"Oh, right. My apologies. As I was saying, I've been looking over some old Nordic tomes that I acquired, courtesy of the College of Winterhold. I found an entry in a book that spoke of ancient creatures of Skyrim and found one such creature that fits the description of the one the Companions described. According to legend, there lived a demon that roamed Skyrim with an unquenchable thirst for human blood. Some say the demon could walk through walls, see in total darkness, and had claws the size of a dragon. Others say he was once a man who was shunned by all and sent into exile, where madness struck and consumed him."

The warriors all glanced at one another, but remained silent. Farengar let a tiny smirk cross his lips, he had clearly caught their interest.

"Whatever the case," Farengar continued, "Those who met the creature were unfortunate... they never survived."

The ebony clad Redguard scoffed, "If no one survived, then how is it that book carries such knowledge of the beast?"

"This is simply a myth, old Nordic legends passed down from generation to generation. I don't expect you to understand, nor do I care if you do. I'm simply giving you a theory as to the identity of the foe you currently face. Now, may I continue?"

Balgruuf nodded.

"Very well. Legend has it that an old Nordic warrior was able to drive and seal the beast within the most foul, wretched abyss in the entirety of Skyrim, where it would remain for eternity. Or so they thought."

"What do you mean so they thought?" the Imperial woman inquired.

"Well," Farengar began, "According to the tome, after fifty years of dormancy, the creature somehow managed to escape the abyss in which he had been sealed in. Longing to taste human blood once again, it creature wreaked havoc across Skyrim, killing anything in its path. Then one day, the creature suddenly vanished, leaving behind no trace of its existence. The only thing that remained of the beast were the bodies it left behind, and the stories that followed."

"Okay, that's a very interesting story and all, but what in Oblivion does that have to do with the thing attacking Whiterun?" the Redguard practically shouted.

Farenger let out a annoyed sigh, the Redguard was not a very bright individual. "It has more to do with the current situation than you know, Mister…?"

"Avik," the Redguard spat.

"Right, Avik. The reason I'm taking _my _time to explain all this to you is simple: I believe that the creature in the tomes is the same creature that's been attacking the city. The tome refers to the creature as 'The Jackal'."

"The Jackal?" Balgruuf repeated, apparently stunned at the revelation of the creatures name.

"Wait, surely you jest!" one of the Thanes shouted in disbelief. "The Jackal is an old Nordic tale to scare Children, surely it cant truly exist!"

"I've not seen the creature for myself, so I cant be the one to answer your question," Farenger told the irate thane. He then took one of his books and tossed it onto the nearby dining table. "That tome contains an image of the creature I told you about. See with your own eyes, and judge for yourselves."

His job completed, Farengar turned to the Jarl, bowed, and strode back to his study. The Jarl sat quietly upon his oaken throne, lost in deep thought. Grabbing the old tome, Aela quickly shifted through the pages until she came upon the image the mage was referring to.

"Vilkas, you'd better take a look at this."

Vilkas took one look at the image in the tome and his eyes narrowed. The creature in the book was the very same creature that had been attacking Jorrvaskr for the past three nights.

"The similarities are remarkable, aren't they?" the Huntress said as she tossed the tome away.

Vilkas nodded. "Indeed," he replied. "Its strange, to think that a creature like that has been able to survive for so long, its almost impressive."

Aela gave the man a hard look. "You're complementing the enemy. Not wise, especially for someone that's supposed to have the smarts of Ysgramor himself."

"I simply compliment its ability to survive through the ages, besides, its okay to have some respect for an enemy that can push the limits of your skills."

"True," the huntress agreed. "But I respect no one who dares to attack my home, and neither should you."

Vilkas opened his mouth to answer, but was cut short by the Elven armor clad Nord and his companions approaching Aela and himself.

"Have you discovered something interesting?" the Nord asked. "Would you mind sharing the information with fellow warriors?"

Aela cocked an eyebrow, "Fellow warriors? Last I checked Vilkas was the only Shield-brother I have in Dragonsreach."

The Imperial woman scoffed. "Oh? The little Elk hunter thinks she's better than the rest of us? I doubt you'd last an hour in a real fight, with a _real_ warrior."

As quickly as a tempest wind, Aela stood face to face with the Imperial woman, each glaring daggers at one another.

"Struck a nerve, did I?" the Imperial jeered.

Aela let her hand rest upon her dagger, she made a point to let the woman see her every movement.

"If you think you can take me," Aela started. "Then by all means, make attempt. And see your blood spilled upon the floor all the same."

The Imperial went for her sword, and Aela her dagger. They were both stopped when Vilkas and the Nord grabbed their hands.

"That's enough, Aela." Vilkas said. The huntress yanked her hand away from the vice-like grip and sheathed her weapon.

"Now, now Livia," the Nord scolded. "We're here to help each other out, not fight amongst ourselves. Besides, I'd hate to see a woman as beautiful as her marred."

Aela shot a death glare at the man, the bastard was insulting and complementing her at the same time.

"You're right boss," Livia said as she locked eyes with the huntress. "Another time. After we take care of the Jarl's problem. Just wait until then, princess."

The Imperial promptly turned on her heels and headed to the dining area to her Redguard friend. Aela turned to Vilkas, murderous intent within her emerald eyes.

"I'm going to plant my dagger in that bitch's throat." Aela growled through gritted teeth.

"Not here you aren't," Vilkas deadpanned, earning him a glare from Aela. "How do you think your actions would affect the reputation of the Companions if you killed someone in the Dragonsreach court? We would never recover from such an act, no matter what we did to make amends. You must learn to control your anger, and be more diplomatic in these sort of situations."

"I don't do diplomacy." Aela said flatly.

Vilkas chuckled. "Clearly. Anyway, hold off on killing the woman until after we've dealt with this... Jackal."

Nodding in agreement, Aela turned back to the Jarl who was currently in a conference with his Housecarl and Steward. Balgruuf sat quietly on his throne, his eyes closed in deep thought as he listened to the thoughts of his subjects.

"My Jarl, I caution you, do not be to hasty in sending valuable men into battle with this creature," Proventus pleaded. "I say we spread the Companions and the other warriors throughout the city and let them handle this."

"Are you that daft, Proventus" Irileth growled. "That creature has assaulted the city countless times, killed many of our men, and even tried to break into Dragonsreach. How would spreading out these warriors benefit us in any way?"

Balgruuf nodded. "I agree with Irileth on this one," he said, Proventus gave him a defeated look. "Our enemy is unlike any we've ever crossed paths with before. This... Jackal, is a dangerous threat to my city and its people, I cannot afford to put Whiterun's fate in the hands of a few warriors, no matter how skilled they are."

"If I may be so bold, I may have a solution to your current problem my Jarl."

Balgruuf turned his head and locked eyes with the Nord clad in Elven armor and frowned. For him to speak out of turn, that was most audacious.

"What is your name, warrior?" Balgruuf inquired.

The Nord gave a large, cocky smile. Balgruuf immediately regretted ever bothering to ask the man such a question.

"I am known by many names, Jarl," the Nord began. "But you may call me Pericles."

-_Whiterun: The Bannered Mare_-

Hulda stood at the front counter cleaning the tankards, mugs, and the dishes that had piled up from the day. Saadia was busy in the kitchen, cooking the roast beef and vegetable stew Uthgerd had ordered. She frowned at the thought of the woman, it had been months since she had been rejected by the Companions yet she was still sulking in failure. weren't Nords supposed to be strong in both body _and_ spirit? Saadia wondered if the Companions new Harbinger would allow the woman a second chance even after her unintended killing of the young whelp she was pitted against. From what Hulda had told her, the young Harbinger was the type to forgive past transgressions and look beyond the flaws that most people condemned, a trait she admired.

Saadia had also heard that not only was the young Harbinger honorable and forgiving, but extremely handsome to boot. Many of the young women in Whiterun would try to catch even a small glimpse of the boy before he departed to his next job, some had even managed to speak to the him, or so the rumor went. Ysolda had even confided to her that she would like to see or even meet the boy if she could, a sentiment Saadia unfortunately couldn't share in. She had problems of her own, and fawning over some man was the last thing on her mind.

Saadia striped the thoughts from her mind and went back to preparing the meal she concocted. She had just finished placing the finished meal on the tray when Hulda walked in.

"Saadia, when you finish serving Uthgerd could you tend to the customer that just walked in?" she asked.

"Of course, mother."

Saadia strode out of the kitchen and sauntered over to the table where Uthgerd was sitting.

"Here you are Uthgerd," Saadia said setting the plate in front of the Nord. "Let me know if you need anything else."

Turning on her heels, Saadia strode over to the robed man sitting at the front counter. As she took a closer look at him, Saadia grew very wary of the stranger and decided to keep a close eye on him. His choice of attire was rather lighthearted. He wore a creamy tan robe with a deep green outline and a shrouded hood with a face mask that covered his entire visage. He carried on his back a beautifully made glass shield and a steel sword of the finest quality. His boots looked to be enchanted with a muffle spell, rare to ever find any sort of apparel with that kind of enchantment.

Gathering her wits Saaida finally broke her silence. "Welcome to the Bannered Mare. May I get you anything?"

"Yes, actually. You can," the man began. "I'm looking for information about a certain… individual, here in Whiterun."

Saadia stiffened, and looked at the man with a suspicious eye.

"There are a lot of 'individuals' in the city," she said as she slowly went for the dagger on her hip. "You'll need to be more specific."

"Do you go for your weapon every time you meet someone new?" the man suddenly asked. Saadia gripped her dagger.

"Never know who's plotting violence." she said dryly.

The man nodded. "Or when they may commit the act."

There was a tense moment of silence between the two. Saaida considered stabbing the man right there on the spot, but knew there was a possibility that the man was simply a traveler looking for someone he knew. Then again, the man had already displayed that he was no ordinary vagabond, she could simply tell Hulda and the guards that he made a threatening gesture and she simply defended herself. As she stood weighing her options, the man finally broke the silence between them.

"Relax, ma'am," he said in an almost playful tone. "The person I'm searching for is a Nord. Young guy, light brown hair about law length, rough facial hair, and deep-blue eyes. Supposedly a real pretty-boy, but a damn good fighter."

"And why would I tell you anything? How do I know this isn't some ruse to get me to drop my guard?"

The man chuckled. "Because if I were really after you, I'd have already caught you, gave you to the poeple who are looking for you, and would be at the local whorehouse in Riften."

Saadia eased slightly but never let her hand fall from her dagger. "Sounds to me like your looking for the Harbinger," she told robbed stranger. "He's the leader, or rather, advisor of the Companions. He resides in the Jorrvaskr mead hall, its up the stairs from the central plaza. From what I hear he's in Ivarstead on important business, and its not certian when he'll be back."

The stranger rubbed his chin in contemplation. "Well that's a shame, I was really hoping to meet the guy. Ah well, thanks anyway."

Eager to get as for away from the man as possible, Saadia quickly turned and began to walk away.

"Um... Excuse me." the robbed ma called out, Saadia slowly turned and gave the man an annoyed look. "Ah, I'm sorry, but I'm rather hungry. Would you mind fixing me a bowl of, say... beef stew?"

"Fine," Saddia sighed throwing her hands up. "Coming right up. What's your name, stranger?"

"My name is Fenrir, nice to meet you."

Giving the man the quickest and _fakest_ smile of her life, Saadia turned and headed back to the kitchen. Once there, she leaned against the wall and let out a relieved sigh. She had managed to dodge the arrow that had been shot her way, but would she be able to do it again if it ever happened? She needed help, but there was no one in Whiterun she could trust, Hulda and Ysolda excluded. She didn't want them involved in any of her problems, they had enough things to worry about.

Saadia took one last look at the strange traveler who called himself Fenrir. It was obvious to her the man was no ordinary vagabond, that much she was sure of. She wondered just what he wanted with the Companion's Harbinger and questioned herself on whether or not it was a good idea to pass on the information she gave to Fenrir. She didn't know why, but something about the man screamed one word: Danger.

-_Jorrvaskr: 10 minutes till midnight_-

Skjor had not been having the best of days. The first mishap of the day was the crappy morning he had. His wounds from the frequent attacks of the ebony creature had yet to fully heal, and as a result, he had accidentally reopened a majority of them while training and had to visit the healer yet again. The second mishap happened around midday when he had a run-in with a group nobles and their bodyguards. One particularly fat aristocrat made the mistake of shoving him to the side and said something along the lines of "How dare you walk in my path, you filthy peasant! Next time remember to stand out of the way of your betters, if you don't want my guards to attack."

Skjor ended up paying a fine of one hundred fifty gold for assault on a fellow citizen, but it was all worth it to see that fat noble and his guards writhe on the floor in pain. Then, almost immediately after the incident, Aela and Vilkas had been summoned by the Jarl to discuss the issue of the creature now revealed to be a thing called the Jackal.

Now, to top everything off, the Jarl had ordered his Thanes and three mercenaries he had never even heard of to fight beside him and the other Companions. It was an outrage, one that was shared by the other members of the Circle. They all currently stood in the privacy of The Underforge, discussing the very issue.

"I don't like this," Skjor voiced, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the stone wall. "The Jarl's Thanes are one thing, but I've never even heard of this Pericles guy or any of his comrades. And you said he's the one who came up with this ridiculous plan?"

Vilkas nodded. "Aye, he did. But the Jarl didn't agree to the plan straight away. He pulled Aela and I to the side and asked our opinion on the matter."

Skjor raised an eyebrow. "And you agreed?"

"I don't like the Idea of them fighting beside us any more than you do, Skjor. But our odds of defeating this Jackal are better if we compromise and work together with Pericles and his comrades."

"Vilkas is right," Aela agreed as she stepped forward. "I as well don't like plan, more so than the rest of you. But if we want to defeat this beast, then we need to work together. _All_ of us. That's what the Harbinger would want us to do."

Skjor's eye met with Aela's, a look of pure disgust was etched on his face in stone. Aela immediately regretted mentioning the name she had just spoken.

"The Harbinger?" Skjor sneered. "You insult the very name Companion by the mention of that coward."

"Watch your tongue!" Vilkas snapped. "I don't care about the problem you have with the Harbinger, that's between you and him. But I wont stand tight lipped while you insult a man who's not even here to defend himself!"

Skjor and Vilkas glared at one another, neither taking their eyes off the other. Most people who knew of the Companions believed that its members were a close knit family of sorts, one whose members never fought amongst one another. Most people were wrong. The Companions were indeed brothers and sisters in arms, that much was true. But there were times when rivalry between two or more would surface within Jorrvaskr, and drive a wedge between the individuals. These rivalries were often harmless, nothing more than one person trying to out-do the other. But there were times were a rivalry would evolve into outright hatred, often ending in the death or banishment of the persons involved.

The clash between Vilkas and Skjor was no surprise to Aela and Farkas, both of whom watched silently as their brothers stood almost nose to nose in each others face.

"Why?" Skjor asked suddenly. "Why do you defend him? What do you see in him that's so special, Vilkas?"

"Why do you hate him?" Vilkas countered. The question seemed to catch the balding warrior off guard, as he stood silently glaring at his shield-brother.

"Look, now is not the time to start fighting amongst ourselves," Farkas said. Aela and the others turned and gave the ice brain confused looks. "There's a monster that's more than likely on its way here to try and take all our lives, I say you stop this stupid argument and save your anger for the Jackal."

Aela's brow shot up in surprise. Since when did Farkas become the voice of reason?

Vilkas sighed and turned to Skjor. "Farkas is right," he agreed. "We've got to many lives hanging in the balance to start fighting amongst ourselves. Lets deal with the Jackal first, then knock each other's heads off."

Skjor grinned. "Alright, we kill the Jackal. Then each other."

The two Companions boomed with laughter as they, Aela and Farkas exited the Underforge and entered the mead hall of Jorrvaskr. Pericles, Livia, Avik, and the Jarl's Thanes were all scatted about, conversing with one another about the upcoming fight no doubt. Deciding to rest her legs a bit, Aela took a seat at he dining area near the hearth fire. She glanced over at a bottle of mead and considered consuming the contents, but decided against it. She would soon be in the heat of battle, and being tipsy was no way to be when in battle.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Pericles took a seat beside her.

"Everyone is so tense," he stated with a ridiculous smile on his face. "This Jackal must be one tough opponent, you must be a damn fine warrior to have been able to repel the beast."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Aela deadpanned. "Besides, it wasn't just myself that pushed the beast back. Vilkas and the rest of my Shield siblings fought the Jackal together, the glory goes to us all."

Pericles chuckled. "As it should. After all, the Companions deserve every bit of the fame they've acquired. But I'm curious, where is the young Harbinger I've heard so much about?"

"Out." Aela spat, a hint growing annoyance in her tone.

"Out?" Pericles repeated. "Out where?"

"That information in on a need-to-know basis," the Huntress said. "And _you_ don't need to know."

Shrugging, Pericles rose from the table. "Very well, I will remove myself to less deserving company."

Aela let out a sigh of relief as the self centered warrior finally left her alone to her thoughts. She took a quick look around the hall. Everyone stood in anticipation, waiting for some sign that the battle they would be taking part in would begin. Wanting to pass the time faster, Aela pulled out a whetstone and her newly made steel arrows and began sharpening them.

After about five minutes the Huntress heard the familiar sound of the heavy wolf armor of the Companions approach her. She smirked, it was either Skjor or Vilkas who had decided it was a good idea to irritate her further, and she bet all the coin to her name it was the former.

"Pericles and his friends are a rather arrogant bunch." Skjor said, Aela grinned.

"Tell me something I didn't already know." she said, still sharpening her arrows.

The balding warrior chuckled. "I think Pericles has taken a liking to you." he said gesturing to the table where the man and his comrades sat. Aela glanced over and saw the man, staring right at her with a large smile and hungry eyes. He winked at her before turning back to his comrades. Aela was livid.

"I'm going to kill both him and that Imperial when this is all over." she growled.

"I understand your anger," Skjor told her, rubbing his chin as he addressed the Huntress. "But is it really so bad to have someone fawn over you?"

"As a matter of fact, it is." Aela growled. "I don't have time for some stuck up, arrogant, self centered milk-drinker trying to woo me with horkershit stories about his supposed victories on the battlefield."

"But still, don't you at least feel even the slightest amount of emotion when someone compliments your looks or tells you your're beautiful?"

"I told you, I don't have time to worry about Pericles and his infatuation with me." the Huntress snapped.

"I wasn't talking about Pericles." Skjor admitted.

Aela gave the balding warrior a questioning look. Of all the subjects to bring up, he choose this one, the one she hated the most. Aela could stomach a lot of things. She disliked, politics, magic, weaklings, even nobles. But for all the durability she possessed, she completely faltered each time the subject of her and Skjor came up.

Noticing the Huntress's hesitation, Skjor continued.

"Look, Aela. I-"

Skjor's sentence was cut short by a terrifying, earsplitting scream so loud it could've woke the dead. Most of Jorrvaskr's occupants froze where they stood. The members of the Companions however stood their ground, the roar being all to familiar to them.

"Alright everyone, the Jackal approaches," Aela addressed the warriors as she readied her weapons and equipment. "Time to earn your worth!"

Pericles and his band of warriors sprang from their seats and drew their weapons, eager to show off their skill. "The Jackal has made a mistake coming to this honored hall," Pericles announced as he raised his sword in the air. "Myself, Livia and Avik will slay this beast, and restore the peace of this great city."

Aela and the other Companions scoffed, was he really that incompetent? There was another roar, this one closer and louder than the last.

"The things I've heard about it," one of the Thanes began. "They cant be true, can they?"

"If your wondering if it can walk through walls or any of that crap, then no, it cant." Vilkas answered coolly.

"I don't give a damn what the bastard can do," Stone-Arm snarled. "When that beast comes through those doors, its dead." She turned and shot a cold glare at Pericles and his partners. "You here me? _We'll_ be killing the Jackal! Us, the Companions! Not some unknown band of wannabes!"

Livia pointed her sword at the aggressive woman. "Don't get to cocky, little girl. Anyone can boast, what matters is the skill to back it up, which I doubt you have."

Stone-Arm just about lost it. "I'll kick you and your sorry group's asses back to-"

"That's quite enough," Aela said, throwing a cool glare at her shield sibling. "In case any of you have forgotten, we've got a monster just outside those doors. So if you don't want to become Jackal food, I suggest you shut up and concentrate on the impending battle."

With a growl, Njada turned her attention back to Jorrvaskr's entrance. Though she wanted to teach the Imperial bitch a lesson in humility, Aela was right. If she was going to stay alive, she would need to clear her mind of distractions and concentrate on the battle. Besides, once they had taken care of the Jackal, it was open season on her and her friends.

Another roar broke the silence of the night, this time closer than even the last two. The warriors spread throughout the hall, each taking a specific vantage point of their choosing, a strategic maneuver Pericles himself thought of. Then, without warning, the doors of Jorrvaskr burst open, showering the warriors with wooden shrapnel. The warriors stood silent waiting for the beast to spring from the darkness as it did before.

Then it came. The Jackal charged forward, roaring its terrible was cry as it dug its claws into the ground. Nocking an arrow, Aela took aim at the creature's chest and fired. The arrow shot forth with the fury of an angry tempest, imbedding itself into the creatures body. The Huntress fired three more arrows, each hitting their target with deadly accuracy. Seemingly unfazed, the Jackal pressed its charge, bounding for any target closest to it.

Pericles raised his sword and shouted, "ATTACK!" Livia and Avik were the first to engage the beast. The Jackal lashed out with a brutal upward slash. Seeing this, Avik evaded the strike and countered with a strike from the end of his ebony battleaxe, hitting the beast square in its chin. Following up the assault, Livia charged forward and delivered three lighting fast sword slashes, spilling the beast's blood. The Jackal let out a pained cry. Seeing its anguish, Avik and Livia charged for a second time, but he Jackal had other plans. Reaching out, the beast grabbed the blade of the ebony axe and in one swift flick of its wrist, tossed it and Avik across the room. The Readguard slammed into a nearby pillar and hit the floor with a loud crash.

He slowly rose to his feet thanking his lucky stars his armor had absorbed most of the force. Pericles rushed forward with sword in hand, aiming for the Jackal's heart. Sensing the threat, the beast quickly sidestepped the strike, grabbed Pericles by the neck and slammed the man into the ground. The force of the attack so brutal the floor beneath Pericles halfway caved in.

"Pericles!" Livia cried in horror. The Imperial charged the beast in a futile attempt to avenge her fallen comrade. Leaping forward, Livia slashed at the creatures neck. The Jackal let out an angered roar before delivering a brutal backhand fist to the woman's midsection. She sailed across the room, smashed against the stone wall, and landed in a heap. She attempted to rise to her feet but collapsed and ceased to move.

"You son of a Bitch!" Avik howled as he charged forward, battleaxe raised high in the air. The Jackal was not pleased that a mere human dared to raise a blade against it. It would be the last mistake the worthless human made. Using all the strength in his body, Avik brought his axe down upon the beast, intending to split the demon in half. The Jackal swatted the blade away, staggering the Redguard. Seeing the opening, the ebony creature delivered a devastating strike to the Redguard's midsection that sent him reeling backwards.

The Jackal loomed over Avik with its claws ready to end the foolish Redguards life. It was stopped short when two arrows pierced his back. Growling, the Jackal turned and locked its gaze with the Companions and the Jarl's Thanes, who all stood prepared for combat. Slowly, the beast started forward, eyeing each of the warriors with murderous intent in its eyes.

"Anyone got a plan?" Torvar asked, gripping his war hammer tighter.

Skjor furrowed his brow, his one good eye never leaving the Jackal's. "Yeah, don't die."

Torvar blinked twice. "…anyone got a better plan?"

With a savage roar, the Jackal charged the warriors. Aela nocked an arrow and prepared to fire. Vilkas and the others gripped their weapons and charged the beast, intending to end this battle once and for all.

-_3:35 AM just outside the city_-

The Harbinger sighed a breath of relief as he saw the city of Whiterun ahead of him. He longed to return to Jorrvaskr where a hot meal and a cold drink no doubt awaited him. Not only that, but the constant battles with bandits, wild animals and the occasional wild Necromancers along his path had left his body badly wounded and his armor in serious disrepair. His magicka was practically nonexistent, so healing himself through the arcane ways was out of the question, he would have to wait until he got to his room in Jorrvaskr to take some of the potions he bought from Arcadia days earlier.

His armor and weapons would be the next thing he would take care of. Both his katanas had dulled and chipped from the constant fighting, he had actually caught himself putting even more strength behind his attacks than usual. His armor was heavily dented and cracked, a result of being hit with a heavy war hammer.

There were also two holes near the shoulder area where two glass arrows had managed to penetrate his defenses and multiple slash markings across the chest and back. He considered taking his damaged equipment to Eorlund for repair, but decided to visit Adrianne instead. Avenicci wanted to hone her skills at the forge so that one day, the title of "Best blacksmith in Skyrim" would be hers.

He admired the craftsmanship of Eorlund a great deal and respected the old smith greatly, but if he could help Adrianne become the next best weapon forger Skyrim had ever seen, he would do so with no hesitation. The very thoughts of his plans made the young Nord even more weary than he already was, and he was weary, in both body _and_ mind. Deciding to take care of everything after some well deserved rest, the Harbinger trudged forward, eager to make his wish for sleep a reality.

As he neared the stables, the Harbinger noticed an unusual amount of activity near the city walls. Were the guards doing surprise drills? Then, to his surprise, he saw what appeared to be a men sprawled across the floor with guards kneeling over him. Then the smell of blood crept across his nose.

_Why is there blood in the air?_

Adrenaline kicking in, the Harbinger ran towards the unfolding scene. He was shocked by the state of the farm and the city walls. Horses and other live stock lay dead on the ground, the carriage driver was lying in a pool of blood, his carriage atop his body. The bodies of the city guard were among the most frequent of the death toll. Many had their limbs ripped from their sockets and their necks torn out, but the most gruesome were the bodies whose stomachs and ribcages had been torn open... and eaten.

"What in Oblivion happened here…" the Harbinger asked one of the guards who were sorting the bodies out.

"That damn monster, that's what," the guard muttered. "It came out of nowhere, started killing everyone in its path. We tried to stop it, but…we never stood a chance."

The Harbinger's eyebrow shot up, what kind of creature could have killed so many people? And in such a brutal manner.

"I don't understand," the young Nord began. "What kind of creature is strong enough assault a city filled with armed guards?"

"It aint no normal creature," the guard said. "This beast was belched from the very depths of oblivion. Its invincible, cant nothing hurt the thing. The Jarl's Thanes, Pericles and his band, even the Companions didn't stand a chance."

The Harbingers heart sank and his stomach knotted, the Companions couldn't have been…

The young Nord ran to the city gates, only to find that they had been torn from their fittings. He didn't stop running, he couldn't stop, if his friends had been killed... it was his fault. He shouldn't have left them like he did, he should've been there with them, fought with them. If even one if his friends had been killed... he would never forgive himself. Running past the plaza and up the stones steps, the Harbinger burst through what remained of Jorrvaskr's entrance. To his relief, Aela, Vilkas, and the rest of his shield siblings were all in one piece.

They were currently tending to warriors the Harbinger did not recognize, he assumed them to be the Thanes and Pericles band the guard was referring to. Most everyone in the hall seemed to be in perfect health, albeit badly beaten and battered. He noticed Ria, Njada, Athis, and Torvar laying on the floor. He could see their chests moving up and down, they were unconscious. The Harbinger let out a sigh of relief, none of his friends had been killed.

_Thank the nine…_

Regaining his bearings, the Harbinger walked over to Aela and Vilkas. "Vilkas, Aela…I-what happened?"

The two Companions exchanged a quick glance before turning to their Harbinger. "Harbinger, take a seat," Vilkas began. "There much you need to know of."

* * *

**A/N: Well there you have it, the fourth chapter of the acceptance arc. Let me tell you this is the longest yet. I had originally planned for it to be a lot shorter, like ten pages kinda short, but my brain just kicked into overdrive and well…this is what you get. I just went back and re-read the other chapters and found MAJOR mistakes. To be honest, im ashamed of myself, I'm better than that. That being said, I'll be going back to correct and revamp the older chapters, so be on the look out for that. Now, I had a reader who asked me if the Harbinger's name was Beowulf, and the answer is no. My character in the Skyrim game yes, but not the protagonist of this story, he has a much more epic name. Anyway, writing for Acceptance 5 is already underway, so I'll try to get that one up soon. Until the next chapter!**

**Zero out **


	9. Acceptance 5

Skyrim: Legend of the Dovahkiin

Acceptance 5

Morndas morning had been a rather busy one for the Harbinger and the Companions. They had spent a good four hours repairing the damaged sections of Jorrvaskr, replacing the broken dining tables and healing the injuries they received. After making sure that everything around the mead hall had been taken care of, the Harbinger gathered his damaged weapons and armor and headed to Warmaidens for repairs, clad only in a sleeveless white shirt, brown boots, and basic tan pants. Though he had the skill to repair and craft his own equipment if he ever needed, his skill in the art forging was nowhere near as well honed as Eorlund or Adrianne. Besides, the two smiths were at the top of his list when he needed his blades _extra _sharp.

Making it through the market was a task in itself. As the youngest and most skilled Harbinger in the History of the Companions, his reputation in Whiterun was very well known, and he was often bombarded by admirers and scores of young women as a result. In fact, he was so well known that he had received multiple invitations for a feast by the Jarls of the other holds of Skyrim, most written by the Jarls themselves. Flattered as he was at being so highly praised, the Harbinger declined their invitations, feeling that a warrior had no place amongst nobility. Though he did enjoy being a leader of sorts for the Companions, the Harbinger didn't particularly enjoy the added attention that came with his new title.

It wasn't that he wasn't a people person, or that he found his admirers to be annoyances, he simply preferred to be alone some days. His shield-siblings had noted on how he would sometimes go days without uttering a single word to anyone. It was days like those that would set Skjor off the most. The aging Nord would rant and rave about how the Harbinger was supposed to provide advice and guidance to the newer members of the Companions and instruct the members of The Circle on new tactics to deal with the Silver Hand. The Harbinger frowned as his mind wandered back to that terrible day. He had not been present when the Silver Hand attacked Jorrvaskr. Instead he found himself in the lair of the Glenmoril witches, fighting for his life as he went about the task Kodlak had asked of him. A task he still regretted ever accepting.

Pushing the thoughts aside, the Harbinger made his way over to Warmaidens and was greeted by the familiar smell of hot metal being dunked in water. As usual, Adrianne was hard at work at her forge, banging away at some newly crafted armor she created. Feeling mischievous, the Harbinger slowly approached the smith, taking care not to make any unwanted noise.

"Good to see you, Harbinger," she said without ever turning to see who had approached her. "What brings you here to my forge?"

The Harbinger cracked a tiny smile and hung his head low, would he ever be able to catch her off guard?

"To answer your question, no, you wont." she said, still banging at the piece of metal on her work bench.

The Harbinger raised an eyebrow. "You can read minds to?"

Avenicci turned to face the young Nord and smirked. "Only when the need arises. That aside, is there something I can help you with?"

Reaching in his knapsack, the Harbinger pulled out his damaged equipment and placed them on the work bench. The smith took a moment to examine the apparel, carefully looking over each dent, gash, and chip that was present upon the equipment. Adrianne turned her attention to the katanas, and let out an exhausted sighed. The blades were worn, cracked and badly chipped. It was a wonder that they hadn't broken during any of the fights the he had been in. But then againm katanas were notoriously durable.

"Its sad when weapons once so beautiful become so marred." Avenicci remarked upon finishing her examination of the weapons. "I wont ask you how your equipment became so damaged due to your profession. But still, I am rather curious."

The Harbinger leaned against one of the support pillars, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. "Just the usual. Bandits, Trolls, wild Necromancers, Bears, Wolves, Sabre cats. Oh, and a Giant that was wandering the roads."

Adrianne noticed that the young Nord sounded particularly annoyed when he mentioned the giant. It was quite amusing, the great leader of the Companions complaining like some whelp right out of training school.

"Well, you're alive, and that's the important thing," she said as she spread his equipment across her work bench. "Besides, I'm sure your comrades are more than happy to have you back after days away."

The Harbinger waved his hand in dismissal. "They got along just fine without me," he said, Propping himself up from the pillar. "Anyway, about my equipment."

"Your entire armor set is badly damaged," Adrianne began to explain. "The breastplate in particular is in need of the most repair. There are two large holes on the upper left side where the shoulder is positioned and multiple dents and sword gashes that managed to penetrate as well, I'll most likely have start from scratch and re-forge the whole set."

"And my weapons?"

"Worse than your armor," she told the young Nord. "The blade is in terrible condition, chipped and nearly broken. And somehow the guard was split in two. I'm not very sure I can repair your swords, Harbinger. Not many smiths today are knowledgeable on the creation and repair of katanas, myself included, so fixing them may be impossible unless you find the smith who made them in the first place."

The Harbinger sighed, though he expected as much, it didn't take away the frustration. As great a smith as Eorlund was, the Harbinger doubted even he had the know-how to repair a katana. As much as he didn't want to do it, there was no way around it. He would have to re-forge his own weapons.

"Well, how much will it be for the Armor." the young Nord asked.

"Not cheap," Avenicci warned. "It'll run you about six hundred thirty septims."

"Done," the Harbinger pulled a large coin purse from his knapsack and placed it on the work bench. "How long will the repairs take?"

"About an hour, maybe two."

"Very well, I'll be back in a while." with a quick nod, the Harbinger turned and headed towards the market. He had just about used up all his potions on himself and his comrades the previous night, and needed to restock his supply. He readied himself for the waves of admirers that would no doubt hound him the second he entered the market area. If he had to choose between fighting Hagravens and warding off young women, he would defiantly choose the former.

-_Dragonsreach_-

Jarl Balgruuf struggled not to let his growing frustration show on his face, a monumental task considering all of the squealing nobles that now stood before him. The Jackal had again managed to evade death at the hands of the Companions and Pericles' band of warriors, and his warrior Thanes. Unfortunately most of the Thanes had been killed and Pericles and his group were severely injured during the fight. The only upside to the situation was that the Companions not only managed to drive the Jackal out of the city, but also grievously injure the beast. As impressive as such a feat was, Balgruuf couldn't relax just yet, not while the Jackal still drew breath.

The Jarl pushed the thoughts from his mind and decided to actually pay attention to what the noble before him was saying.

"My Jarl, the Companions still cant manage to defeat this creature, even with the help of other warriors!" he shrieked. "If even the followers of Ysgramor cannot defeat this beast, then what are we to do?"

"Calm yourself, Vinnus," Balgruuf said calmly, shifting the position of his body in his oaken throne. "The Companions are the only ones who are skilled enough to fight the Jackal on equal footing. As for Pericles and his band, they proved themselves to be of use, despite their defeat. The Companions have already given their word that they would continue to battle the creature until it is slain."

The Imperial Noble Vinnus wasn't satisfied, and continued to bombard Balgruuf with questions.

"Capable as they may be, I still think we should ask the Imperial army for-"

"We don't need the help of the Imperial army!" Balgruuf shouted, his anger finally peaking through. "We have warriors who are perfectly capable of handling the situation. I don't need Tullius and his damn Legionnaires storming my city for one damn beast!"

The court went silent. No one dared to speak a single word, lest they incur more of the Jarl's wrath. Vinnus stood his ground, his brown eyes locked with Balgruuf's blue ones, determination swelled within each. Balgruuf couldn't help but feel a small shred of respect for the Imperial. Unlike most of the nobles, his concern was for the wellbeing of the citizens of Whiterun, rare among aristocrats. Indeed Vinnus was not the best physical specimen in Whiterun, but his heart, will, and spirit more than made up for his lack of fortitude. At least in the Jarl's mind.

"My Jarl," the Imperial began. His voice was shaky and cracked a bit, but also even and confident. "I do not doubt the strength of the Companions or the other warriors of the city. But what _if_ they don't manage kill the beast? What _if _they're killed while defending the city? Then what? Then who will protect the city?"

Balgruuf sighed, running a hand down his face. They Imperial spoke out of turn, but he was right. If the Companions and Pericles' band were defeated there would be no one left in Whiterun to stand against the Jackal. No one but…

Balgruuf's eyes lit up with a sudden realization, something his Housecarl took note of.

"Balgruuf, surely you don't mean to recruit _him_, do you?" Irileth inquired.

Balgruuf nodded. "Aye, that I do."

The Jarl's Steward, Proventus Avenicci, turned to the Jarl. "Who are you talking about Irileth?" he asked, obviously confused as to who the Dunmer was referring to. "Who is 'he?'

"He… is the one individual who may be able to bring about the Jackal's death." Balgruuf answered. Avenicci shook his head, still in the clouds on who they were speaking of.

Irileth crossed her arms and sneered. "Even if he is their leader, what makes you think that boy can defeat this monster?"

"Because, Irileth," Balgruuf started. "If the stories I've heard about him are true, then this Jackal wont have a prayer against his superior skill."

Irileth sighed, she knew that Balgruuf had the utmost faith in the boy, but hoped that his faith was not misplaced. But, she knew all to well of the stories the Jarl was referring to, and the man behind those stories. She knew how well liked and admired he was throughout the city of Whiterun, and how respected he was amongst the Jarls of the other holds. She also knew that if the stories were indeed true, then the man behind them was one of the most deadly warriors in the Whiterun hold.

"Apologies my Jarl," Vinnus said, wanting to discover who the Jarl and his Housecarl were referring to. "But who is this Warrior you speak so highly of?"

"Irileth, I want you to head over to Jorrvaskr… and bring the Harbinger of the Companions to Dragonsreach."

"Of course, my Jarl." with one final bow, the Dunmer turned on her heels and made her way out of Dragonsreach, and to the home of the Companions."

-_Plains District: Arcadia's Cauldron_-

"Oh my, these are some pretty serious injuries," Arcadia said as she examined the Harbinger's wounds. "What on Nirn possessed you wait until now to have these wounds examined?"

The Harbinger let a tiny smile pass his lips, in the time he had arrived in Whiterun and became a Companion, he and the local Alchemist Arcadia had developed a strong friendship. Being the Companions youngest Harbinger and most skilled warrior, the young Nord was often sent on dangerous quests, such as clearing out bandit camps or exterminating Giants that were harassing travelers on the roads.

As a result, the boy would often return with numerous injuries across his entire body. Arcadia was surprised at the boy's durability, he had visited her on multiple occasions with grievous injuries and had simply shrugged them off like they were nothing. Either he was superhumanly durable, or simply knew how to hide his pain.

"Sorry Arcadia," the Harbinger grunted as the Alchemist continued her examination of his wounds. "I intended to use the potions I bought from you the second I stepped into Jorrvaskr, but…"

"You saw that your fellow Companions and those other warriors needed them more, so you decided to use it on them." she finished.

The Harbinger sighed, shaking his head. "You're correct, as always," he said. "How'd you know?"

"Because I know you," she answered grabbing a large, crimson bottle. "I know how you are, always thinking about the well-being of others, always putting them before yourself. Honorable, but dangerous in its own right."

The young Nord frowned. "Am I that easy to read?"

Arcadia smiled. "No, you most certainly are not. Half the time I don't know what you're thinking, but the more I found out about you, the easier it was to see what was in your heart. Here, drink this, it should heal all the injuries you have, but I suggest you see a healer afterwards."

"Thanks," the Harbinger took the bottle and popped the cork. He took a quick smell of the stuff and nearly gagged. "This smells like Spriggan shit."

"Then don't drink it," Arcadia said giving the Nord a light slap to the head. "Anyway, I've put all the requested potions and ingredients in your knapsack, so you're all set to go."

The Harbinger coughed loudly as he finished consuming the vile tasting potion. The stuff may have tasted like crap, but it certainly did what it was created to do. "Gratitude, Arcadia. I'll be sure return when I need more potions."

Grabbing his knapsack, the Harbinger gave one final goodbye to the Alchemist and left the store. Now that his shopping was finished he could concentrate on killing the creature Aela had referred to as the Jackal. The Harbinger swore to himself as he went through the large market area, he still hadn't forgiven himself for leaving the Companions like he did. Skjor was quick to berate him for doing so, stating that it was his duty to set an example for the more inexperienced members, and that his abrupt departure shamed the title of Harbinger.

The other Companions thought otherwise, particularly Aela and Vilkas who said that the Harbinger nor anyone could never had anticipated an attack on the hall. Despite his talk of honor, Aela knew the true reason Skjor was digging into the Harbinger's departure so much. He knew that the Harbinger was still guilt ridden over not being able to save Kodlak, still torturing himself on not being present when the Silver Hand attacked. It wasn't his fault, he was not responsible for Kodlak's death, but the young Nord didn't see it that way.

The Harbinger was jolted out of his thoughts when he accidentally bumped into a passerby.

"Ah, apologies. I was not paying attention to the path I was walking."

"No, the fault is mine. I should have been more careful." Ysolda apologized. She stared at the boy for a brief moment before her eyes lit up with excitement. "You, you're the Harbinger!"

"Yes, I am," he said calmly. "And again, I apologize for my absent mindedness."

"Oh, don't worry about it, accidents happen," Ysolda assured the Nord. "But if I may ask, what are you doing in the Market? And in regular clothing?"

The Harbinger gave a quick, lighthearted chuckle. "I may be the Harbinger of the Companions, but I'm still just a man. I have needs like any other person. As for these clothes, I have to wear them until my armor is repaired and battle ready."

Ysolda's face went bright red, clearly embarrassed at her idiotic question. "Oh, of course! How foolish of me, that was probably silly question."

"Its nothing," the Harbinger assured her. "Anyway, if I remember correctly, your name is Ysolda, am I right?"

"Ah, yes," the woman chirped excitedly. "I'm the one you acquired that mammoth tusk for. You really helped me out."

"Ah, I remember that," the Harbinger said grimly as he recalled the events of that day. He had spent well over and hour tracking down and killing one of the large behemoths only to be attacked by its Giant master. "Hulda asked me if I could retrieve it for you, you're lucky to have such a good friend."

"Yes, she's certainly one of a kind," Ysolda agreed. "I'm surprised that you aren't at Jorrvaskr right now, what with all that's been going on over there."

The Harbinger's face grew dark and grim, he clearly didn't want to be reminded of Jorrvaskr's problem. "Well, I'm actually on my way back to Jorrvaskr as we speak. Myself and the rest of the Companions have to come up with a plan of action for tonight."

"I see. Well then, I should get going. I don't want to delay you any more than I have."

With a final goodbye, the Harbinger made his way through the crowded marketplace. He was about halfway to the steps that lead to the central plaza when a familiar voice caught his attention.

"What's this? The Harbinger of the Companions out and about the town? No wonder there's such a fuss going on today."

The Harbinger smirked, he turned and saw his Redguard friend Amren standing with his arms crossed wearing a ridiculous grin on his face.

"Amren, I'm surprised your wife let you off your rather short leash." the Harbinger quipped, earning him an annoyed glare from the ex-soldier.

"Oh haha, Very funny. Its your fault that she barley lets venture past the house."

"My fault? If I remember correctly, _you_ were the one who begged to tag along on a contract of mine. You getting caught has nothing to do with me."

Amren waved his hand dismissively. "All jokes aside, what brings you to the market? I thought the Companions had everything they needed in Jorrvaskr."

"We have quite a bit of essentials, but potions are not among them," the Harbinger explained. "I also came to have my armor repaired, which is currently being done. As for my weapons, well… that's a different story."

Amren looked confused. "Wait, so Avenicci is the one repairing your armor? I thought you Companions have your equipment made and repaired by Eorlund"

"Yes, he does. But Adrianne is trying her best to become Skyrim's next best Blacksmith. If I can help her achieve that goal, then I'll do whatever it takes."

Amren smiled, the young leader of the Companions was really one of a kind. It was no wonder he was so well liked by the people of Whiterun and so respected by the Jarls of the other holds. In his days as a soldier, Amren had come across many types of people, but none could compare to the man before him. The Harbinger was brave, noble and honorable. A trait he found rare amongst men these days.

Just as he opened his mouth to reply, Amren heard a small commotion near the entrance to the city. Just then a large contingent of guardsmen came trough the gate. Unlike the other city guards, these men were clad head-to-toe in strong steel armor, carried steel shields and wielded razor sharp steel swords. They all marched in complete unison, none of them breaking the smooth rhythm they had as they strode through the city.

"Who are they?" the Harbinger inquired, still eyeing the heavily armored group of men. Amren gave the Nord a curios glance.

"What do you mean 'who are they?' they're the Jarl's most elite group of guardsmen! Renowned throughout the holds of Skyrim!"

The Harbinger furrowed his brow. He had never once heard anyone speak of this group of warriors, not even the Jarl himself. He didn't care for the people the Jarls and nobles surrounded themselves with, that wasn't his problem. But it was strange that this so called 'elite' group of warriors were nowhere to be found when the Jackal had assaulted the city. If they were the renowned warriors Amren had said they were, then wouldn't they be the ones the Jarl would dispatch to deal with the city's current threat?

As he watched the group of warriors stride through the Plains District, the Harbinger noticed two women walking among them. One was an older but beautiful looking woman, clothed in a golden, crimson lined royal dress that billowed in the wind with elegance he could only dream of. She had long, wavy blond hair, full lips and a pair of enchanting blue eyes that would enthrall even the most strong willed of men. The second one was a beautiful, fair looking younger woman. She to sported a dress similar to the older woman, the only difference being the Whiterun Stallion that was sown into the fabric.

The girl looked very similar to the woman before her, with the same mesmerizing blue eyes, long blonde hair and beautiful full lips. The Harbinger was a bit taken aback, not because of their beauty, but by their sudden appearance in Whiterun. It made no sense. One would think that women of their obvious high standing would stay clear of the city until it had been rid of the Jackal. That was obviously not the case.

"I wouldn't let your gaze linger," Amren warned the young Nord, noticing the strange look he was giving the women. "Lest you raise the ire of the guards."

The Harbinger frowned. "Who are those women?"

Amren eyed the Nord curiously, how on Nirn did he not know who the women he was staring at so intensely were?

"You're kidding right? How long have you been in Skyrim? The women you see before you are none other than Lady Aeta and Lady Lisaa. They're the wife and oldest daughter of Jarl Balgruuf!"

The Harbinger lifted an eyebrow. "Wife? Daughter? This is all new to me."

"How did you ever manage to become Harbinger of the Companions of Whiterun without knowing important information like that?"

"The Jarl and his kin are not my concern," the young Nord answered. "My worries lie in the affairs of the Companions."

The Nord and Redguard watched as the Whiterun elites escorted the women through the market and made their way to the cloud district. The Harbinger was a bit surprised by the people's reaction, and that of the two women. Lady Aeta and Lisaa were friendly and kind, and greeted the people with a warm, affectionate demeanor. A stark contrast to the nobles of Cyrodiil. The citizens seemed overjoyed by their return, as many of them rushed over to greet the two women.

"Apologies for my abrupt departure," the Harbinger began. "But I really must leave, Jorrvaskr awaits."

Amren nodded. "Right then, I'll see you some other time."

His goodbyes given, the Harbinger made his way to the central plaza and up the stairs to Jorrvaskr. He considered heading to the Skyforge to begin work on repairing his katanas, but quickly decided against it. Katanas were different from the double edged swords used by most everyone in the known world. It took time, patience, skill, the right tools and specific materials to craft or even repair a single katana. Things he didn't quite have at that moment.

No, he would need to deal with the growing threat of the Jackal before he even thought about weapon repairs. With a sigh, the Harbinger opened the door to Jorrvaskr and entered. Upon entering, the Harbinger was greeted with the sight of four Whiterun guards and the Housecarl of Jarl Balgruuf conversing with Aela and Vilkas. Noticing his arrival, Irileth turned and approached the young Nord.

"We've been waiting a very long time for you to return," the Dunmer growled, her tone set in the usual serious nature. "Exactly where have you been?"

The Harbinger crossed his arms over his chest, a frown setting on his features. "I don't see how that's any of your business." he retorted.

Irileth shot the Nord a deadly glare, which he returned. She considered striking the young Nord for his smart remark, but knew time was of the essence. She would be sure to revisit that remark another time.

"As much as I'd like to teach you a lesson for such an inconsiderate remark, now is not the time," she sneered. "The Jarl has requested your presence."

The Harbinger sighed, the list of problems he was facing was adding up by the second, and didn't seem to be stopping anytime soon.

* * *

**A/N: Well here's the fifth installment of the acceptance story arc. Unfortunately, its just a filler in the acceptance story arc really. I had planned to add the battle between the Harbinger and the Jackal to this chapter but decided against it because of the clutter it would have caused, plus I wanted to gather my ideas for the next chapters big fight. So please forgive me for that. Also, I apologize for the lateness of this chapter, I was recently just released from the hospital due to a bad ear infection and have been in recovery mode ever since. Anyway, the last thing I wanted to touch down upon was the Jarl's wife and daughter. I'm not very good at describing dresses at all, so I faltered a bit when I did, if anyone can give me pointers, I'd be more than happy to accept. Anyway, the sixth chapter of the acceptance arc is coming, and with it, the battle between the Jackal and the Harbinger! So stay tuned!**

**Zero out **


	10. Acceptance 6

Skyrim: Legend of the Dovahkiin

Acceptance 6

Dragonreach's court was ablaze with the sounds of bickering nobles and Thanes arguing amongst one another. Jarl Balgruuf, his wife and oldest daughter sat side by side on their oaken thrones. Aeta on his right and Lisaa on his left. The Harbinger stood silent as he stared at the thrones confused, wondering where the women's had even come from.

"Something wrong, Harbinger?" Aela inquired with a raised eyebrow.

The young Nord was snapped out of his gaze. "No. Nothing important."

"If you say so. Now, any idea why the Jarl specifically summoned you to Dragonsreach?"

"To speak of Whiterun's Jackal problem no doubt, but I don't know why he summoned me of all people."

"Your reputation maybe?" the Huntress guessed. "You are well known throughout Whiterun and the other holds of Skyrim. Its no surprise that he would have of the stories surrounding you, as there are many of them."

The Harbinger remained silent, his eyes fixed on the unfolding madness of the court, his arms crossed over his chest. Aela let a tiny smile form on her lips. She knew the young Harbinger cared nothing for the stories of his accomplishments or skill in battle, a trait she admired greatly. Maybe that was why she and the other Companions were so drawn to him, his humble nature. She had on many occasions pondered Kodlaks reason for choosing the Nord as his successor, especially one as young as he was. But the more she watched him, the more deeds he accomplished, the more time she pent with him, she began to see what Kodlak saw: An honorable warrior with a brave and noble spirit. But more than that, it was his keen mind and experience that made him such an effective leader.

The Huntress turned her gaze back to the ongoing arguments between the nobles. One side was demanding that the Jarl as for Imperial assistance against the seemingly unstoppable Jackal, while the other side suggested help from mercenaries. Balgruuf pinched the bridge of his nose, these nobles had no shame at all.

"I have said this countless times before…" Balgruuf said in a low, threatening tone. "I will not call for the aid of Tullius and his damned Legionnaires! And I will not waste coin on a worthless lot of honor-less mercenaries!"

"And see the people of this city killed off like animals?" one of the nobles shouted. Lady Aeta shot the aristocrat an icy glare.

"My husband would sooner die than see the people under his care slaughtered!"

Balgruuf placed and gentle hand on his wife's lap, calming her before turning his attention to the nobles.

"The people of this city are my primary concern," Balgruuf said with deep sincerity. "And I would do everything in my power to see them safe from harm. That is why I have called upon an individual who can help."

A collection of grouped voices resounded throughout Dragonsreach's walls as the nobles began to talk amongst themselves. Irileth inwardly rolled her eyes. With all the years and wisdom Balgruuf had under his belt, she could not see why he placed so much faith in this single warrior.

"I think he's talking about me." Aela joked. The Harbinger smirked and gave her a rare look of amusement.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Harbinger, step forward." Balgruuf ordered.

The young Nord took a deep breath, then proceeded forward. His ears were quickly filled with the sounds of outrage as the nobles finally saw the storied Harbinger of the Companions. It was obvious from the various looks of disapproval that the nobles did not think very highly of him. Just as well, the Harbinger held no concern for what they thought, he wasn't there for them. The Nord young Nord stood before the Jarl in his family, arms at his side, fists slightly clenched, eyes and brow furrowed in a slight scowl.

He tried his best to maintain the image of a deadly warrior, but being dressed only in plain boots, a sleeveless white shirt and basic pants was making the attempt extremely difficult. The only image he was giving away was of a farmer. He inwardly swore at Irileth for forcing him to head to Dragonsreach looking as he did.

The Jarl shifted in his chair to a more attentive position. "So, we meet again young Harbinger," he said. "The last time I summoned you to my court was to clear Halted Stream Camp of the bandits that resided within, you did the city a great service. But, it would seem that I require your services yet again."

"You have but to ask, Jarl."

"As you know by now, the city has been frequently attacked by a creature we have identified as The Jackal. The guards, Pericles' mercenary band and even Your fellow Companions have been unsuccessful in slaying the creature."

Balgruuf paused and examined the boy for a moment. He stood unmoving, hands at his side slightly clenched, his deep blue eyes locked with his brown ones. Balgruuf could tell from the fierce scowl that was upon the boy's visage that his full attention was focused upon himself. The Jarl continued.

"That being said, the Companions are the only ones who have been able to drive the foul creature out of the city. Impressive as that may be, I cannot rest knowing that thing still draws breath from this world, which is why I called upon you."

"I'm honored, Jarl." the Harbinger said.

"Forgive me for speaking out of turn my Jarl," the Imperial noble Vinnus said as he stepped forward. "But this is no time to joke. This… _boy_ cant possibly be the leader of the Companions!"

Balgruuf glared at the skinny Imperial with burning fury. "I make no jest, Vinnus! The person that stands before you is none other than the Harbinger of the Companions, and you will show him proper respect. _All_ of you!"

The Jarl let his gaze wash over the large crowd of aristocrats, silencing them for good.

"Its okay, Jarl," the Harbinger assured Balgruuf. "I can understand why he would doubt who I am. After all, its not everyday a twenty-five year old becomes the leader of Ysgramor's Companions."

Vinnus eyed the Nord. "I still find it hard to believe that a _child_ is the leader of Skyrim's most famous fighting force."

"Believe what you want, I have no concern over the matter, and I assure you-I am no child." the Harbinger's tone was calm yet assertive. Something that came as a surprise to the Imperial.

"He speaks the truth, Vinnus," Balgruuf chimed in. "This 'child' single-handedly ended the lives of the witches of Glenmoril Coven."

The nobles exchanged shocked and semi-impressed looks with one another, unsure of whether or not the words of the Jarl were true. They glanced at the young Nord, eyes full of doubt. It had to be some kind of mistake. There was no way someone as young as the boy before them could have put an end to the Glenmoril Witches.

"Now, to business," the Jarl began. "Harbinger, I have heard the stories of your skills in battle, and am quite impressed, not an easy feat I might add. But I cannot sleep soundly know that the demon still draws breath from this world. So, I ask this favor of you: Will you take up your blade and strike down the beast that terrorizes the city?"

The Harbinger looked the Jarl square in the eye and with a even tone answered. "Of course, my Jarl. But the Jackal, from what I have heard, does not fight with weapons or armor. So I will do the same. I will face the beast on equal terms, and defeat him on equal ground."

Dragonsreach was set ablaze with the uproar of the nobles. The Jarl, his wife and their daughter sat in their thrones stunned. Irileth found herself shocked for the first time in years, who did this boy think he was? Even if he was as skilled as the people said he was, he could never hope to best the Jackal in a test of brute strength. Irileth recalled what the guards who had managed to survive the demon's onslaught had told her. If what they said was true, then the Jackal would easily rip the foolish boy apart. As she watched the young Harbinger and the red haired female depart, Irileth found herself feeling a bit sorry for the Companions. They were about to lose yet another leader.

-_Underforge_-

The members of The Circle stood silent in the Underforge beneath the Skyforge, their attention focused on the one who called the meeting.

"What were you thinking?" Vilkas demanded, burying his forehead in his palm. "Making such a boast. Have you lost mind?"

The Harbinger stood leaned against the stone wall, eyes closed, arms crossed over his chest and clad in his newly repaired steel armor. His face was set in the usual scowl that was present whenever he was deep in thought or taken with pressing matters. Opening his eyes, the Harbinger slowly turned his gaze toward the elder twin.

"My mind has never been more clear, Vilkas," the young Nord assured his Shield-Brother. "This is no boast, but a promise. I _will_ kill the Jackal, with my own hands."

"Listen to him," Skjor chimed in. "Prattling on some cliché hero in a child's story book. This is reality, not some fairy tale, boy."

The Harbinger glared at the old war veteran. "You would know about fairy tales, wouldn't you Skjor."

The two Nords stared at one another for a moment, one sizing up the other. Their staring contest was cut short by Vilkas who stepped forward.

"Now is not the time to argue amongst ourselves," he said sternly. "We've got a serious problem on our hands if you don't remember."

The Harbinger's eyes flashed with anger. "Problem?"

"I mean no disrespect, Harbinger," Vilkas assured the young Nord. "I just think that you should consider the circumstances. All of the Companions combined were not enough to stop the creature, even when we had the help of Pericles and his comrades. Even Skjor couldn't take him down even while transformed. The idea of you fighting against this creature in nothing more than your subligaria and using only your fists is a daft."

"Well, I've heard protests from Skjor and Vilkas, the latter coming as a surprise," the Harbinger said as he propped himself from the wall. "Does anyone else have any more protests?" His gaze fell upon Farkas and Aela.

They hadn't uttered a single word since the meeting had begun and the Harbinger was eager to hear what they thought on the matter. Aela stood leaned against the stone walls of the Underforge, head low and eyes closed in deep thought. The burly warrior Farkas stood with his arms crossed over his strong chest, eyes darting from one person to the other. He would likely voice his thoughts after the Huntress.

Opening her eyes, Aela's green orbs locked with the young leader's blue. "As always, I stand with you on your decision," she told him. The Harbinger gave her a knowing look, which she returned. "But I also share in the concerns of Vilkas. Facing the Jackal alone with no weapons or armor is, as Vilkas said, daft."

The Harbinger turned to Farkas. "What do you think ice brain ?"

Farkas grinned. "I stand beside you, as always."

"Harbinger, please just listen for a moment," Vilkas pleaded. "Standing against the Jackal on your own will only result in your death. Let us help you by joining with you to slay the foul creature, no one will think any less of you."

"No one but myself." the Harbinger deadpanned.

Vilkas ran a weary hand down in face, he knew the Harbinger would never go back on a decision once his mind was set to the task, but he was being just plain stubborn now. A trait most Nords shared.

"Just let the boy get himself killed," Skjor spat. The other circle members threw him fierce glares. "He seems to have his mind set on doing so, seeing as how he plans to face the beast with nothing more than his own hands."

"My mind is set on victory." the Harbinger said coolly.

"If your goal is to rush into the arms of death, then you march towards certian victory."

"Skjor, enough!" Aela barked.

"Humph, whatever. Win or lose, I don't care what happens to the boy," Skjor huffed. "That being said, I don't think he'll survive."

With his words of comfort given, Skjor promptly left the Underforge.

"Good to know he places so much faith in you." Farkas said dryly

"As he always does." the Harbinger chuckled

Vilkas turned and shot the two Nords a steely glare. "Now is not the time to be joking around you two." he bit. Vilkas's tone was one of seriousness, a clear indication of his growing concern over the Harbinger. "If you're serious about facing the Jackal, then you need to use the time you have to at least try and prepare for the battle. Talos knows that's all you can do now."

"Don't worry, Vilkas," the Harbinger said as he headed out of the Underforge. "The beast could appear at this very moment and the outcome would be no different. Rest assured, the Jackal will fall this night, and Jorrvaskr as well as the city will be able to feel safe again."

Promptly, the young leader left the privacy of the Underforge and headed for Jorrvaskr. Vilkas, Farkas and Aela remained, each exchanging looks of worry at one another. None of them spoke straight way, instead keeping their thoughts to themselves for the time being.

"I wont lie, I'm a little worried." Farkas said, surprising both the Huntress and his brother.

"As am I, brother," Vilkas admitted solemnly. "But you know the Harbinger. Once his mind is set on something, there's no talking him down." he let out an exhausted sigh. "Sometimes, I really hate the stubbornness of us Nords.

"It can be a rather unpleasant trait in certain situations." Aela chuckled. "But that aside, the Harbinger has made his decision, and its our duty to stand beside him."

"I know, sister," Vilkas closed his eyes. "I only hope that this decision doesn't lead him to his death."

-_Dragonsreach_-

Balgruuf's brow furrowed as he sat silent in the dim light of his candle sifting through documents at his desk. The job of a Jarl was indeed not one to be taken lightly, something he had been constantly reminded of in the past months. As if the war, the Jackal and the constant harassment from the nobles wasn't bad enough, the gods decided to add to the growing problems of Whiterun.

Balgruuf pinched the bridge of his nose, the job of a Jarl was truly taxing. With a heavy sigh, Balgruuf continued the medial task of signing papers and putting approval seals upon the many ledgers that lay scattered across his cluttered workstation.

"Slow day?"

the voice was almost inaudible, barely above a whisper. Balgruuf looked up from his work and was rewarded with the pleasing image of his lovely wife Aeta.

Balgruuf smiled. "I long to have this day over and done with, but…"

"The Jackal, yes, I'm well aware of the threat." Aeta said as she strode over beside her husband. She placed her gentle hand on her husbands shoulders, which he warmly embraced.

"Then you're aware why I've been stressed to no end lately."

Aeta smiled and kissed her husbands forehead. "What with the Jackal attacking the city, the war and the nobles looking to you for help for every little thing, I'm not entirely surprised. But… I have one question to ask of you dear."

Balgruuf gave a light nod.

"That young man, the Companions Harbinger, do you really think he'll be the one to stop the Jackal?"

Balgruuf shut his eyes for a moment, silently asking himself the same question. After a few moments he had his answer, and opened his eyes.

"Kodlak…" he began in a soft tone. "Placed more faith in that boy than any other new blood that has ever come before him. He saw something in the boy, something that I myself have seen within him. The fire that burns within the boy's heart is brighter than any I've ever seen before. I truly believe that boy will do great and wonderful things in this world."

Aeta smiled as she wrapped her arms around her husband. To gain the complete trust and faith of Jarl Balgruuf was a task that very few accomplished. The fact that the young Harbinger had done so was, in Aeta's eyes, a testament of the fire that raged within the boy.

"He must be quite the warrior, for you to give him such praise." Aeta noted.

Balgruuf gave his wife a warm smile. "I have not seen him in battle myself, but a few of the guards and some Khajiit merchants have witnessed him in combat. If what they say is true, then the boy is not one to be trifled with."

"You know, I heard tales about the Harbinger of the Companions while I was in Solitude with Lisaa," his wife revealed. "From what I heard, he's able to take on large groups of enemies on his own, and always emerges victorious."

Balgruuf let an uncharacteristic grin form upon his lips. Aeta frowned in response.

"I don't like it when you grin like that, darling," she informed her husband who's grin became even more prominent. "Something terrible always happens when you do."

"If the death of the Jackal is a terrible thing, then may the gods grant him victory in the battle tonight."

Aeta's frowned deepened, she hoped that the gods had not taken her husband's jest of a statement to heart.

-_Jorrvaskr_-

It was as if a curse had been cast over the hall of Jorrvaskr. The normally loud and rowdy members of the Companions sat in complete silence, none whispering a single word. Each of them sat scattered throughout the hall, occasionally sending one another concerned glances. The Harbinger sat in the middle seat of the dinning table as he always did, his attention focused on the many job letters scattered around him.

"We've got serious work to do after this is over." he announced as he went over the contracts.

Not hearing any reply, the Harbinger looked up from the papers and let his gaze fall over the hall. Each Companions was staring directly at him, their eyes glued to his blue ones. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"Okay, I'll bite. Why is everyone staring at me like that?"

"I'll tell you why!" Njada started with a shout. "You went and made a completely insane boast that you cant back up! I know what kind of strength that… _thing_ possesses, and there is no way you can hope to defeat it unarmed."

"I'm with Njada, Harbinger," Ria spoke up. The Harbinger raised a questioning eyebrow. "The Jackal is not a creature to be taken lightly. If you face it with no weapons or armor, I fear you'll never see another dawn."

Anger surged through the Harbinger's body, and he shot the Imperial an icy glare. "Its nice to see you have such faith in me, Ria." he said through gritted teeth, Ria shrank back in her seat.

"She's just worried about you, Harbinger," Vilkas tried to explain. "We all are."

With a annoyed sigh, the Harbinger turned to face the twin. "I appreciate your concern, but it isn't needed. I'm a warrior, not a child that needs to be constantly looked after and tended to, I can take care of myself!"

Aela raised a surprised eyebrow, that was the first time she had ever seen the young Nord yell at someone, especially a fellow Companion. The Harbinger never let his emotions get the best him, especially his anger. After he'd returned from slaying the witches of the Glenmoril Coven and learned of the Sliver Hand and their involvement with Kodlak's death, he lost control.

Aela remembered what Vilkas had told her about their assault on their stronghold, how they charged in and systematically killed every Silver Hand they came across, how they spared not one life. After the deed had been finished, Vilkas showed remorse for the part he played in the massacre. Though he did not regret what he did, he didn't whish a fate such as the one the Silver Hand members fell to upon any living being.

"Nobody's saying you cant," Vilkas retorted, a small hint in frustration in his tone. "But going against an enemy such as the Jackal without proper weapons and armor is suicide!"

The Harbinger shut his eyes and clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. Had he been the same man he was so long ago, he and Vilkas would have been in a fistfight. Fortunately for the both of them, that man had died years ago, and existed only in memory. Rising from his seat, the Harbinger made his way to the training area of Jorrvaskr.

He placed his hand upon the door and paused. "I'm going outside to meditate for awhile," he said darkly. He then turned a steely glare to the other Companions. "I am not to be disturbed by anyone, that includes the Jarl. Am I understood?"

The young Nord never bothered to wait for a reply and simply walked out. The other Companions exchanged nervous glances, save for the members of the Circle, who all held even looks.

-_Temple of Kynareth_-

Pericles swore under his breath as he sat on the temples marble bench. Looking over his shoulder he saw Acolyte Jenssen and Danica Pure-Spring in the midst of healing his Redguard friend Avik. The Nord sighed, he and his comrades had been in the temple since their battle with the Jackal the previous night. Livia had been given a clean bill of health and was released earlier in the morning, he swore again, some people had all the luck.

It was frustrating, there was nothing that Pericles hated more than to be constantly looked after like an old geezer, unless the one caring for him was a gorgeous woman who liked to do her job in the nude. If only. As nice as a naked woman sounded, Pericles had more important things on his mind, the main thought being that of payback against the Jackal for humiliating him.

The beast had not only easily defeated him in front of his friends, but the Companions as well. He let out a heavy sigh as he buried his face in his hands, they would never take him or his comrades seriously after that. Not only that, but the Jarl and his inner circle would more than likely dismiss them after their failed attempt to slay the beast. Pericles groaned, he and his friends were in a serious rut now. The Nord's thoughts were interrupted when a very pleased looking Livia came bursting through the temple doors.

"Livia, you seem happy considering the mess we're in." Pericles spewed. The Imperial simply smiled.

"What mess? If you're referring about our battle with the Jackal then you can relax. The Jarl isn't really concerned about our defeat, but rather our lives. He was glad that none of us had died and even commended us for showing valor in battle."

Pericles was dumfounded, he was sure that the Jarl would chastise him about his loss after he told him he was sure to win. He turned to Livia.

"That's rather unexpected, but I'm not complaining. How did you come across this information?"

"The Jarl granted me an audience, and told me everything." Livia explained. "Including about a boast made by a certain Companion."

If Pericles hadn't been interested before, he was now.

"Okay, you've got my attention Livia."

The Imperial smirked and took a seat on the bench. "It seems the Companions Harbinger told the Jarl that he will defeat the Jackal with, get this, his bare fucking hands."

Pericles furrowed his brow. "He intends to face the Jackal absent weapons?"

"_And_ armor." Livia added.

"The man is either incredibly brave…or monumentally foolish," Pericles said as he gathered his belongings. "Come on, we're leaving."

Livia raised in eyebrow. "Aren't you still injured? Are you sure you want to leave before Danica gives you the go ahead?

The Nord shook his head. "I've been cooped up in this place for to long, I need to stretch my legs." he turned over to the bench that his Redguard friend was laying. "Avik, we're leaving!"

The ebony clad warrior shot up. "Finally."

The Redguard lifted his giant battle axe in the air and snapped it onto the straps on his back and proceeded to walk towards the temple doors. They were abruptly stopped when Danica Pure-Spring stepped in front of the three warriors.

"Where do you think you're going?" the priestess inquired, arms crossed over her chest. "You two aren't in any condition to fight and I'm not finished healing the rest of your injuries."

"Sorry Danica, but duty calls," Pericles said with a smile. The three warriors brushed past the woman and walked out the door.

Danica sighed, warriors were always so difficult to deal with, especially the Nord ones. With a sigh, Danica turned on her heels and went back to her duties. After all, there was no sense in worrying about those three since she would have even more of them coming through her doors soon enough.

-_Jorrvaskr_-

"My Lady, I really don't think this is a good idea."

Lisaa shook her head. "No, I have to see him. I cannot let him go through with this foolish plan."

At the request of Lady Lisaa, four of Whiterun's elite guard accompanied her to Jorrvaskr to speak with the Harbinger of the Companions, despite their initial protests. The captain of the elite guard, a large blonde haired Nord by the name of Roggvar, pleaded with the young daughter of Balgruuf to reconsider her actions. Unlike most of the Whiterun populace, Roggvar had nothing but distain for the Companions, often stating that they were no better than the common sell sword found all across Skyrim.

"My Lady, a young woman of your station should not mingle with the likes of the Companions," Roggvar said, never bothering to hide the venom in his voice at the mention of the Companions. "They are a rambunctious bunch of louts and drunks, not the warriors the people make them out to be. You should not concern yourself with their lot."

Lisaa sighed and looked the man in the eye. "Those 'drunken louts' are the only ones who have been able to drive the Jackal out of the city," she contended. "They are fierce warriors who deserve the utmost respect for their bravery and continued assistance against the threat the Jackal poses."

"My lady…"

Lisaa raised her hand, cutting off whatever words the Nord was about to say. "I am not concerned with what you think about the Companions, Roggvar," she informed the man. "But I will not allow you to openly insult the people who are doing everything they can to protect this city and its people. When we meet with their Harbinger, I expect you to behave like the captain of the Whiterun elite guard, do I make myself clear?"

Roggvar lowered his head slightly. "Yes, my Lady."

"Thank you, Roggvar, and I apologize for my harsh words."

Lisaa and her escorts made their way through the Wind District and headed up the flight of stairs to the doors of Jorrvaskr, and entered. Roggvar was rather surprised when he walked into the mead hall, he had expected the band of glorified mercenaries to be drinking and shouting expletives to the heavens and each other. Instead, he found all of them going over battle plans and strategies.

Lisaa and her escorts stood in silence, taking a moment to admire the great mead hall. Noticing the armed guards and young noble, Farkas approached.

"Can I help you with something?"

Roggvar stepped forward, almost threateningly. "Lady Lisaa, daughter of Jarl Balgruuf The-Greater, wishes to speak with your Harbinger."

"Well then you came all this way for nothing," Farkas told guard leader. "The Harbinger's out in the training yard meditating, says not to let anyone bother him, you guys included."

Roggvar narrowed his eyes at the steel clad Nord and stepped even closer to the man. Farkas merely crossed his arms over his chest and stared the man squarely in the eye.

"Listen you, I don't know how you people operate in here, but this is the daughter of the Jarl. To deny her an audience is most unwise, even for a Companion."

"Well you're wrong about that," Farkas said coolly. "Any outsider that walks through our doors must abide by our rules, the Jarl included. Just as we must abide by Balgruufs when we're in Dragonsreach."

Roggvar clenched his gloved fist. "I don't know who you think you are but-"

"Enough, Roggvar!" Lisaa shouted, earning her a confused look from the Nord. "I thought I specifically told you to behave in a professional manner, not act like a brutish thug."

Roggvar stepped backwards until he was standing side by side with the young noble. "Apologies, My Lady. I did not mean to overstep."

Lisaa turned her attention to Farkas, who was looking on as if he was bored of the unfolding scene.

"Apologies, I didn't mean for my bodyguard to act so inappropriately."

Farkas waved his hand in dismissal. "Don't need to apologies for someone else's mistakes, it aint right."

"Thank you, but I apologies none the less. Now if I may, I'd like an audience with your Harbinger."

Farkas inwardly sighed to himself, didn't she hear what he had told her bodyguard? "Like I told your friend beside you, he's out in the training yard meditating, and he's not to be disturbed by anyone."

"Please, you must let me speak to him. it's a matter of the utmost importance."

"It could be, but the Harbinger's word is final, nobody see's him."

Lissa clasped her hands together and looked into Farkas's eyes, a deep longing swelling within her blue orbs. "I know I am asking much, what with his upcoming battle against the Jackal, but I absolutely must see the Harbinger. Please, let me speak to him, if only for a moment, let me exchange words with the man."

Farkas scratched the back of his head and let out a heavy sigh, very few people could sway him into going against the words of the Harbinger, in fact the only ones who had been able to do so were Aela and his own brother. Luckily for them, the Harbinger never punished or reprimanded them when he eventually found out about their ulterior motives.

Finally relenting to the young woman's request, Farkas gestured toward the doors leading to the training yard. "Come on, follow me."

He led the young Lady and her escorts through Jorrvaskr to the doors of the training yard, earning him the confused glances of the other Companions. Farkas was just about to open the doors to the training yard when his brothers call caught his attention.

"Farkas, what do you think you're doing?"

Farkas glanced over to his brother and gestured to Lissa. "Jarl's daughter wants to see the Harbinger, says its important."

"You know he doesn't want to be-"

"Disturbed, I know. I'll take responsibility for whatever happens."

Opening the Door, Farkas led the group through the yard and over to the shaded area where the Harbinger sat in meditation. Roggvar's mouth gaped in utter shock as he looked upon the Companions leader, this boy before him couldn't be the Harbinger he'd heard spoken of by so many, could it?"

"Um, Harbinger," Farkas began. "You got visitors."

The Harbinger sat cross-legged, hands on his knees, eyes shut tight. He was as silent as a grave and as still as a gargoyle, one could easily mistake him as one had his bare chest not been in a rhythmic movement.

Normally, interrupting the Harbinger's meditation would not worry Farkas so much, after all, he had done so many times before. But after the obvious signs of anger the man displayed earlier, Farkas wondered if this interruption would be costly. He really didn't feel like having extra training hours dropped in his lap.

After a moment of awkward silence, the Harbinger finally spoke.

"Is there something you want, Farkas?" he inquired, never bothering to open his eyes.

"Like I said, you got visitors. Jarl's daughter and her bodyguards, says they got something important to talk about."

The Harbinger remained in his meditation for a few seconds longer before snapping his eyes open and finally rising to his feet. He took a quick glance at Lisaa and her protectors. There were four of them, three men and one woman, all clad in the same steel armor and carrying the same steel weapons and shields.

The first guard, Roggvar, was a large Nord with long blonde hair, a nicely trimmed beard and mustache, blue eyes and muscles on top of his muscles. He was a rather handsome looking, with barley and scars upon his features. Strange, considering his line of work. The next man, Ranmir, had short raven black hair, an extremely bushy looking beard, emerald green eyes, and a large scar that started from the top of his left eye and traveled all the way down to the bottom of his jaw.

The last man, Balfring, was somewhat similar to the Harbinger himself. He had long wavy brown hair that reached down to his shoulders, rough facial hair and a pair of blue eyes. But the similarities ended there. The Harbinger turned his attention to the single woman of the so called 'elite' group. She was good looking for a guard, of that he was sure. Her hair was black and sported a single braid on the back, her skin was slightly pale and appeared flawless, like it had never been marred by the heat of battle.

Lisaa stepped forward. "Harbinger, I thank you for giving me the chance to speak with you."

The Harbinger gabbed the upper piece of his armor and began strapping it on. "Lets just get this over with," he retorted coldly. "I have more pressing matters to attend to."

"R-right," Lisaa turned to Roggvar. "I wish to speak with this man in private, so I want you and your men to stay in the training yard until we have finished breaking words."

Roggvar gave a curt bow. "Yes, Milady"

Lisaa turned back to the Harbinger and gave a warm smile. "Shall we?"

The pair then made their way toward the Wind District to discuss whatever it was Lisaa found so important. Farkas sighed and turned to head back into Jorrvaskr, but stopped just as he reached the door. "You can take a seat over here at the dining area," he said gesturing to the various benches. "Help yourselves to whatever food and drink you see, but stay outside. The Companions are busy, and we don't need any more distractions."

Farkas made his way into the mead hall, leaving Roggvar and his company behind. The Nord and his comrades made their way to the shaded dining area. There was a calm silence between the group, each of them glancing nervously at the other.

"So, any idea as to why we bothered coming to here?" Roggvar asked his comrades.

"Lady Lisaa said something about talking the Companions Harbinger out of a promise he made to her father." Ranmir explained. "Gods only knows why she even bothered. From what I hear, the kids dead set on seeing whatever it is he promised through."

"Wait, you mean… you guys don't know?" Balfring asked. The other guards threw him curious glances.

"Know?" Roggvar started, "Know what?"

Balfring smiled from ear to ear. "Irileth really didn't tell you guys? The Harbinger boasted that he'd kill that Jackal monster with his bare hands. Can you believe that? He says he's not gonna use weapons, armor, or even aggressive magic. Just his strength and his wits."

"His wits have left if he thinks he can actually win!" the dark haired guardsman scoffed. "That monster will tear him apart!"

Roggvar shifted his gaze toward their single female member. "You've been silent ever since we left Dragonsreach," he started. "What do you think will happen, Lydia?"

The woman turned her bored gaze to her leader. "I think… you all gossip to much."

-_Wind District_-

The Harbinger stared intently at the newly bloomed Gildergreen in the Wind District's central plaza. That, among other things, was a task he considered to be one of the more honorable. Normally, he would not find himself thinking of old victories and past triumphs, but the situation he found himself was far from normal.

Lisaa, or Lady Lisaa as she was known as throughout the city, was currently trying her hand at persuading the young warrior to cease his fight with the Jackal.

"Please, you must listen to reason!" she pleaded, her eyes suggesting she was on the verge of tears. "I've heard tales of the strength the demon possesses, you cannot possibly hope to best it in terms of brute force."

"I've already told you, my minds made up." the Harbinger almost shouted. "Instead of fearing for my safety, you should be worrying about your own."

Lisaa let out a frustrated sigh, never in her life had she met a more stubborn Nord than the one standing before her, couldn't he see that his very life was in danger? Rising from the plaza bench, Lisaa walked over to the young warrior and stood at his side.

Had the threat of the Jackal not been looming over the city of Whiterun, had his very life and quite possibly the lives of every person in the city been at stake… the Harbinger would've guessed that Balgruuf's daughter had feelings for him. He banished the thought, telling himself that he was merely over thinking the situation.

What the princess did next however would make him reconsider his assumption. "Is there nothing I can say that will change your mind?"

She took his hands into hers and looked into the young warrior's eyes. It was not the kind of look friends gave each other, nor was it a look of fear that was only recently upon her visage. Hers was a look of worry, the look that a woman gave a lover before they went off to war. The Harbinger was dumbfounded, he hadn't even known of the woman's existence until earlier that day, yet the way she was staring at him now would suggest otherwise.

"No, nothing." the Harbinger finally said, removing his gloved hands from hers.

"Then may the gods bless you with victory."

The Harbinger shook his head. "The gods will have no part in this battle, if they even exist that is."

Lisaa let out a surprised gasp and placed her hands over her mouth. "Y-you cant be serious! Surely you do not doubt the existence of the gods."

"I doubt anything I cannot see with my own eyes," the young warrior revealed. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got training to do and your bodyguards are waiting for you to return."

Lisaa opened her mouth to speak but couldn't find the words to match what she was thinking. Besides that, she knew that no matter how hard she tried, she would not be able to move the Harbinger from his decision.

They made their way back to Jorrvaskr in silence, neither having anything to say to the other. As the began their ascent up the stairs leading to Jorrvaskr, Roggvar and the rest of his troop made their way towards them. The Harbinger brushed passed the steel clad group, never uttering a single word as he entered the mead hall.

Roggvar turned to the princess. "Is everything alright, my Lady? You look even more worried than you did before you came here."

Lisaa stared at Jorrvaskr for a moment longer before turning back towards the plaza. "Come, Roggvar. I would return to Dragonsreach. There is nothing more I can do here."

The captain nodded. "Yes, my Lady."

As they departed, Lydia took one final look at the young Harbinger. She had only just seen the man for the first time since she had heard the stories about him, but she knew that somehow, her life would be forever entwined with his.

And so, the rest of the day went on like usual. Despite the ever present threat of the Jackal, the people went about their daily lives as if the danger were non existent. Even with their seemingly oblivious demeanor, the people of Whiterun were all to aware of the demon that was lurking in the foulest recesses of Skyrim, and the threat it presented.

So, day soon turned to night. The merchants and shopkeepers hurriedly packed up their goods for the next day, citizens disappeared into their homes and the city guards armed themselves to the teeth. Taking their assigned positions, the guardsmen all saluted to one another. This night was sure to bring blood and death.

-_Jorrvaskr_-

The tension inside Jorrvaskr was thick enough to cut with a dagger. The Companions all stood in various spots throughout the mead hall, occupied with menial tasks. Some sharpened their weapons, making sure they were in peak battle condition. Others inspected their armor, taking their time to make sure it wouldn't fall apart around their bodies.

Vilkas, Aela and Farkas all stood by their Harbinger, who sat at the center table near the entrance. Skjor was seated farther down from the four, mentioning something about not wanting to be seen with a walking dead man.

Minutes felt like days as the band of warriors stood around waiting for any sign of the Jackal's approach.

"Strange, this is usually around the time the beast attacks." Aela commented, her brow furrowed in slight confusion.

"you're right," Vilkas agreed. "By now the bastard would've burst through the doors and attacked everyone in sight. Why does it delay its assault?"

"Because its biding its time." the Harbinger answered suddenly, earning himself surprised stares from the other Circle members.

"Why would it do that?" Farkas inquired. "Its not like this night is different from any other," he quickly remembered how the Harbinger planned to face the beast and corrected himself. "For the beast, at least."

The Harbinger shook his head. "Its not that. The Jackal has no idea about my being here, or my existence for that matter. I'm willing to bet that it knows the Companions are the only ones capable of driving it back, that we're the superior fighters of the city."

Aela shrugged her shoulders. "But I don't see how that's relevant to what Vilkas said."

"Think about it. The Jackal has attacked Jorrvaskr on regular basis, never once has he killed any of us, even though he's more than capable of doing so. The Jackal knew it could kill any of you at any given moment, yet it simply injured a good majority of you."

Aela's brow rose ever so slightly as the meaning behind the Harbinger's words finally began to sink in. "So, you're saying that its-"

"Its asserting dominance over us," the Harbinger finished. "It feels that we're no longer a threat, that it doesn't have to worry about being killed. Mind you, this is only a theory. But it's the most logical answer I can come up with."

Silence washed over the Circle members as they pondered their Harbinger's theory. Aela was impressed, for the Harbinger to come up with a theory after only hearing about the demon was… amazing.

Then, her ears were treated to the rather unpleasant but familiar sound of a persons arms being torn from their sockets, followed by a powerful roar. Adrenaline surged through her body, her senses heightened and her muscles began to tighten. The other Companions instinctively went for their weapons, their gazes fixed upon Jorrvaskr's doors.

"The beast approaches," Vilkas announced. "Everyone get ready, remember the plan, and may the gods watch over your asses."

The normally rowdy mead hall made it difficult to hear most sounds from the outside world, but that had changed. Now the hall was so quiet that one could hear a pin drop. The Companions could hear the sounds of battle coming from the outside. Athis suppressed a shudder as yet another terrifying roar ripped trough the air. The gruesome sounds of breaking bones, torn flesh and screams of men followed soon after. The Companions exchanged worried glances.

Farkas shook his head sadly. "Poor bastards."

"Their bravery is noted by the gods. They go to Sovngarde, brother." Vilkas commented.

As the unfolding horror outside Jorrvaskr continued, the Harbinger prepared himself for his greatest challenge yet. Standing up, the young warrior began loosening the straps on his armor and removing the heavy plates until he was in nothing but his loincloth. He grabbed a roll of bandage tape, wrapped both his hands and sat back down. Unlike most of his kinsmen, the Harbinger's physique was not that of a hulking beast. He was lean and trim, yet well muscled and toned. Every line, curve and detail of his muscles could easily be seen.

Ria blushed at the sight, she had never seen their leader without any clothes or armor. Her thoughts quickly shifted when another roar filled her ears, nearly causing her heart to burst through her chest. There was an eerie silence that washed over the mead hall. The sounds outside had all but ceased, and the feral sounds of the Jackal were nonexistent.

Njada raised her eyebrow. "I don't like the sound of that."

"What are you talking about?" Athis questioned. "I don't hear anything."

"Exactly my point."

Suddenly, the mangled, bloody body of a Whiterun guard bust through the doors and landed right at the feet of the Harbinger. Aela and the other Companions slightly flinched at the sight, but the Harbinger didn't so much as blink. A smirk crossed his lips as he stared out the now shattered doors.

_Humph, classic intimidation tactic. Used to demoralize the enemy before battle. Looks like this things not completely animal like. I have to be extra careful. If this thing can think like a person and fight like an animal, that'll make its movement that much harder to read. _

After two full minutes of silence, it came. The Jackal came bursting through what remained of Jorrvaskr's doors. With a snarl, it tossed the still helmeted head of one of the guardsmen across the room and roared triumphantly. Aela notched an arrow and took aim at the creature's eye while Vilkas and his brother readied their weapons.

"Put away your weapons." the Harbinger ordered.

Vilkas shot the young leader a concerned glare. "Harbinger, I don't think-"

"Vilkas, now is not the time to argue! Put your weapons away, all of you!"

Slowly, begrudgingly, the Companions sheathed their weapons. At this, the Jackal tilted its head, confused as to why its enemies would put their weapons away in the face of an enemy such as himself. The Harbinger rose to his feet, fists clenched, staring the demon in the eyes.

The Jackal was even more fearsome looking than any story he had heard. The monster was about twice the size of an average werewolf, easily standing head and shoulders above the Harbinger. It had long, razor-like claws on its hands and sported large muscles that would put even the biggest of Nords to shame. Its face had a more skeletal look to it. Its skin clung tightly to its skull and its eyes and cheeks appeared sunken.

The last thing the Harbinger took note of was the row of perfectly lined, razor sharp teeth upon its lipless maw. The Jackal breaks from its statue like stillness and begins to move ever so slightly. The Harbinger stood his ground, never bothering to lift even a finger. The demon took note of this and let a low growl escape its throat. The Harbinger clenched his fists and crouched into a battle stance, earning himself an even more audible growl from the beast.

The two adversaries glared at each other, one watching the other for any sudden movement. The other Companions looked on with wrapped attention and concerned faces, each of them worried for the safety of their leader. Then, with a violent roar, the demon attacked. It charged forward with massive strides, saliva dripping from its maw as it went. The Jackal attacked with a forward slash of its clawed hand. The young warrior smirked. Sidestepping the blow, the Harbinger put the creature's arm in a death grip, took hold of its pinky and index fingers and snapped them like they were twigs. The Jackal let out a howl of pain and fell to its knees, unable to react. The Harbinger then took the beast's arm and brought a powerful elbow down between the joint of its own elbow, nearly snapping it in two.

Again the demon howled in pain, but began to wildly trash around in a desperate attempt to free itself from the Nord's grasp, but the Harbinger was far from finished. Sliding underneath the creature, the young warrior used the momentum of the slid to plant his heels on the thing's belly and fling him over the dining table. The Jackal slammed onto the ground, the audible sound of the air leaving its body soon following.

Acting fast, the young Nord leaped over to where the creature lay and proceeded to viciously beat on its skull-like face. Angered, the Jackal lashed out with a powerful strike with its still functioning left arm. The attack impacted the Nord's jaw, staggering him. Taking advantage of the human's distraction, the Jackal tackled the man to the floor and bit deep into his shoulder, causing the Nord to shout out in pain.

Vilkas drew his weapon and started forward when he felt a slender, yet strong hand grab his shoulder. He turned and found himself staring into Aela's emerald eyes.

"No, brother. You cant," she told him. "This is the Harbinger's fight, one that he must do alone!"

"We cant just stand here and do nothing while that monster kills him! We have to help him, we-"

"_We_ must put our faith in the Harbinger and believe he can defeat this enemy!" Aela interjected. "Vilkas, if you rush in to help him, you will shame the Harbinger and all that he has done."

Vilkas looked on as his Harbinger and the Jackal wrestled with one another on the stone floor. It was painful, to see their Harbinger in a fight for his life against a creature that all of them combined could not defeat. But Vilkas knew Aela was right, he had to believe that the Harbinger would emerge the victor in this battle. So, with a heavy heart and trembling hands, Vilkas sheathed his weapons and continued to look on. Placing all his faith in his leader.

Somewhere between Vilkas and Aela's argument, the Harbinger and the Jackal had managed to rise to their feet. They circled each other. Slowly, carefully, each if them studying the others condition. Two of the Jackal's fingers had been broken and its arm had been dealt a serious injury. As such, the monster's fighting ability had been drastically cut down.

The Harbinger had a deep bite wound on his left shoulder and slash marks of varying degrees drawn across his body. His wounds weren't serious enough to kill him outright, but the constant bleeding on top of the nonstop fighting would slowly weaken him until all his strength left him. He needed to end the fight and end It now.

Roaring, the Jackal lumbered toward the young Nord. The Harbinger charged at the beast, trying to gain as much momentum as he could for the move he was preparing. Lunging forward, the Jackal attempted to slash the young warrior. With reflexes honed from years of training, the Harbinger sidestepped the blow, leapt forward and delivered a brutal knee to the demons head.

The monster staggered backwards, clutching its head and releasing dazed groans. The Harbinger saw his chance to attack and took it, pulling his elbow back as far as he could and driving it into the monster's solar plexus. The Jackal doubled over in pain, blood spewing from its mouth as it fell. The Harbinger launched himself at the demon and continued his assault. He punched, kicked and kneed the creature with as much power as his body could muster, desperately trying to finish the demon off before his strength started to wane.

The Harbinger delivered a final uppercut to the creatures jaw, the force of the blow so powerful it lifted the monster off its feet. The Jackal hit the floor with a loud thud and ceased to move, much to the Harbinger's delight. A chorus of cheers erupted from the Companions as they moved In to congratulate their leader on a battle well fought. Then, from his peripheral, the Harbinger saw the monster stir.

"Stay back!" he warned.

The Jackal suddenly sprang to his feet and grabbed the Harbinger by the throat. With unheard of strength, the Jackal hurled the young Nord out of Jorrvaskr. The Harbinger rag dolled over the steps leading to the mead hall, slamming into the wooden post that towered the steps and finally the Gildergreen. Pain unlike anything he had ever felt shot through his body. Had it not been for the enhanced durability his beast blood granted him, he would have undoubtedly been killed.

But even his enhanced abilities had their limits. The Companions rushed outside, but did not intervene. Even as the Jackal loomed over and began to mercilessly beat the man, even as his cries of pain filled the city of Whiterun, they stood their ground. Ria looked on, hands over her mouth, eyes filled with tears. Njada, Athis and Torvar exchanged nervous glances. While they had faith in their Harbinger, they couldn't help but wonder if they were about to witness the death of the young leader.

The Harbinger was a wreck. His body was riddled with numerous bruises and slash marks, blood flowed from the wounds freely like water in a river. His left eye was blackened and shut tight, his right was still open but was reddened from a broken blood vessel. His hair was moist from a mixture of blood and sweat, courtesy of the large gash on the top of his head. His ribs were badly broken and mangled, making breathing without going into a choughing fit nearly impossible. The Harbinger spat a large wad of blood on the floor and glared at the demon. it 'smiled' as its serpent like eyes locked with his blue ones. The Harbinger had had enough.

The Jackal leapt backwards a few feet, wanting to put some distance between it and the human, who was clearly on his last leg. Staggering to his feet, the Harbinger wiped the blood from his mouth and took a battle stance. The Jackal narrowed its eyes, growling as it did so. There was something about the human that gave the Jackal cold chills. It couldn't understand, why did this lowly human refuse to give up? Then, it realized what it was that made this human different from the others. Something that none of its other enemies had: A strong will.

The Harbinger suddenly surged forward faster than the monster could react to, the condition of his body betraying the power that he still possessed. It lashed out at the young warrior, but it was already to late. The Harbinger dogged the blow with a quick spin that positioned him right behind the creature, jumped on its back and placed it in a choke hold. The Jackal attempted the tear the human off its back but found that it could not reach him.

In a panic, the Jackal began wildly flail about the Wind District plaza, destroying the benches and wooden fixture that surrounded the sacred tree. The noise caught the attention of the remaining Whiterun guards who came rushing towards the strange sounds and were greeted with the sight of the Jackal with it's head in a vice grip.

"By the nine!" one of them shouted. "Look at the state of this place!"

"Forget about that, look!" another guard gestured to the ongoing battle between the Jackal and the young Companion leader. "By Talos, he's doing it! He's actually doing it!"

The guards and the other Companions raised their weapon high in the air, cheering the young leader on.

This was absurd, unprecedented. How could a human teetering on the edge of life and death still posses this much strength? The Jackal was slowly beginning to lose its own strength as it was slowly choked to death. It desperately tried to free itself from the human's grasp, slamming him into trees, walls, even the steps. But the human would not let go. In fact, it felt like his grip was getting _tighter_!

Slowly, very slowly the Jackals movements became less and less as it slumped to the ground. Its serpent like eyes bulged and turned a crimson shade. Bloody saliva began to flow from its toothy maw, chocked gasps escaping from time to time. Then, with a final squeeze, the Harbinger snapped the demon's neck, ending it's wretched existence.

He rolled off its back onto the cold stone floor and flew into a coughing fit, blood spewing from his mouth as he did. The Companions and guardsmen erupted in loud cheers as they moved in to assist the injured Nord. The Harbinger could barley register what was going on around him. Had he done it? Had he actually beaten the Jackal? Was Whiterun's nightmare finally over? Looking over to his left, the Nord's questions were confirmed as the lifeless body of the demon lay next to him with its eyes rolled to the back of its head.

He smiled. He _had_ done it. He had made the impossible possible. He had single handedly, without the use of weapons, armor, or the support of any of his allies defeated a creature many thought invincible. He would enjoy the honor and glory that his victory no doubt brought him later, he was far to tired to do so now. So, with a final grin, he let himself fall into the comforting darkness.

"Harbinger? Harbinger!?" Vilkas placed his fingers on the young leaders neck and let out a relieved sigh.

"What's wrong, Vilkas? Is he okay?" Njada inquired.

The Nord nodded happily. "He's lost conciousness, but he'll live."

Ria sighed, relieved their leader was still alive. "Thank the divines, I was so worried."

Aela placed a hand on her shoulder. "We all were Ria, but we placed our faith in him. And as a result, our Harbinger lives."

"I don't mean to ruin the mood, but while he is alive, that wont be the case of we don't get him to a healer soon." Athis stated.

"We would be honored to help carry him to the Temple." one of the guards said.

"Very well," Vilkas said. "Come, lets get him patched up."

Slowly, carefully, the Companions and a few guards lifted the young Nord and carried him off to the healer.

Looking down at the youthful but battered face of her leader, Aela cracked a rare smile.

_You really are one of a kind, Harbinger._

-_The Bannered Mare_-

Avik burst through the Bannered Mare doors and quickly made his way up the steps, ignoring the questions that were being asked of him by some of the patrons as he went by. He entered the room where he, Livia and Pericles had been staying and faced the aforementioned leader, a grim look plastered to his visage

"You're not gonna believe this…"

Right after the Redguard had spoken the words, a chorus of celebratory cheers ripped through the inn.

A smirk crossed Pericles' lips. "Oh, I think I might."

-_Dragonsreach_-

Jarl Balgruuf sat in his office going over the last documents of the night with his wife. His daughter, Lisaa, nervously paced the room with her hands over her heart. It had been well over an hour since the beast had attacked and there was still no word on the fate of the Companions Harbinger.

"Lisaa, you're going to worry yourself to death dear," Aeta told her distraught daughter. "Please, get some rest."

Lisaa shook her head. "How can I? knowing that the Harbinger is out fighting that… thing. Or worse…"

"I'm sure the boy is fine," Blagruuf assured her. "He's a highly skilled warrior, I don't think something like the Jackal can-"

Suddenly, the office doors burst opened, and in walked a very surprised looking Irileth. "Apologies, my Jarl. But I have news that cannot wait."

Balfruuf stood up, his eyes slightly widened. "Well? What is it?"

"it's the Jackal, its been defeated. The Harbinger has slain the demon."

Relief washed over Balgruuf. He put his hands on his desk and released a long, tired sigh. "Thank Talos, its finally over," he looked over at his daughter who was now on the verge of tears. "See, what did I tell you? Nothing to worry about."

Lisaa broke down, placing her hand over her mouth as she wept tears of joy. Happy that the young Companion leader still lived. Aeta moved in and placed her slender arms around her daughter, comforting the young woman. Balgruuf gave and extremely rare smile. The faith he had placed in the young Nord had been rewarded. Whiterun's curse had finally been lifted, and for the first time in a long time, Balgruuf would be able to sleep soundly again.

* * *

**A/N: Holy shit this took FOREVER. I sincerely apologize for the utter lateness of this Chapter. What with all the crap goin on at my house and the sheer length of the chapter and writers block on top of that, it took forever to get things in order. Now, the fight between the Harbinger and the Jackal was kinds hit n miss in my opinion, but I think you guys will enjoy it. As you can see, I introduced Lydia in this chapter, she was supposed to appear in the last chapter but I decided to wait till the next. Now, as you may have seen, I've expanded upon the city a great deal. The districts are a lot bigger than their in game counterparts, the reason being because I plan on doing a lot with the story such as adding new characters n what not, so just keep that in mind.**

**The last think I want to tell everyone pertains to the Harbinger's name. if you think you've correctly guessed his name, please send me a PM about it instead of leaving names in the review page. I'd like to take this time to thank the user Thi5 Guy for doing so and giving me his continued support. Well that's all for now, but stay tuned! The next chapter is one you've all been waiting for, Bleak Falls Barrow!**

**See you soon!**

**Zero out **


	11. Acceptance 7

Skyrim: Legend of the Dovahkiin

Acceptance 7

-_Uknown training yard: 8 years ago_-

_The blunt edge of the wooden sword impacted with the Nord's mouth, reeling his head backwards and sending a mixture of blood and saliva flying through the air. The Nord fell to knees, dazed but thankful the Redguard's attack hadn't knocked his head off his shoulders. The Dark skinned warrior extended his hand to help the Nord off his feet. Smiling, the fair haired boy took it and slowly rose to his feet. _

"_You charge like a crazed goat, absent skill," the Redguard criticized. He picked hp the wooden sword the Nord dropped and handed it to the boy. "When faced with a stronger opponent, draw him to you. Then counter." _

_The two warriors took their respective stances. Then, the Redguard attacked. The Nord dodged, ducked, blocked and parried each attack that was thrown at him. But just barley. The sheer force of the attacks so powerful they staggered him after each strike, making it difficult to gain proper footing. The Nord rolled off to the side, putting some much needed distance between him and his attacker. _

_The Redguard again charged forward, bellowing a fierce battle cry. With as much power as he could output, the dark skinned warrior delivered a mighty downward slash. The Nord smiled. Pulling his shield as far back as he could, the boy swatted the attack away, staggering the swordsman. With a battle cry of his own, the young Nord swung his wooden blade upwards and connected with the man's jaw. The Redguard spun and fell to the floor, clutching his strong jaw. _

_Rising to his feet, the Redguard laughed as he patted his young student on the shoulder. "Finally, words find way through thick skull." _

_The young Nord grinned. "At this rate, I'll surpass you by the time I reach my eighteenth birthday." _

_The Redguard scoffed. "Keep dreaming, you've still got a long way to go before you become a true warrior." the dark skinned man took his battle stance. "Now, come at me with everything you've got!"_

-_Jorrvaskr: Harbinger's quarters_-

With a jolt, the Harbinger's eyes snapped open. He stared at the stone ceiling for a moment before lifting his upper body, a feat which he immediately regretted as pain surged through his body. Grimacing, the young Nord tossed his blankets aside and shifted himself to the edge of his bed. It had been two weeks since his battle with the Jackal and still the wounds he had received ached and caused intense pain, even when lifting a single finger. As such, he was told by both Danica Pure-Spring and Whiterun's best Medicus to remain in bed and refrain from any strenuous activity.

So, for two of the longest two weeks of his life, he lay in his bed. The two healers had visited him periodically, constantly checking on his condition and giving him more magical and herbal treatment. The Nord knew the two healers meant well, he just wished they'd at least let him go to the bathroom without someone escort following him. Still, their assistance was well appreciated.

The Harbinger looked over his shoulder to the two katanas that lay on the small table on the right side of his bed and grimaced, he had almost forgotten about the repairs he still needed to make on his weapons. That was a task in itself as it took considerably longer to repair a katana. Not only that, but on top of needing the right tools, he would need the purest of ores and metal to even begin the process. That was the only setback he'd ever had with katanas. While they were lightweight, razor sharp and extremely durable, the items needed to create or repair one were hard to obtain.

With a heavy sigh, the Harbinger rose from the edge of his bed and began a quick inspection of his half naked body. Most of the clawed wounds he'd received had all but vanished, leaving only faint scars behind. His ribs had healed nicely and he was finally able to breath without flying into a coughing fit and both his eyes were back to their original shape and color. His skin was still slightly blackened from the many bruises that covered his body, but the worst of them was on his back. It was evident by the pain that throbbed each time he moved.

Satisfied with his self-examination, the Nord made his way over to the large chest that lay on the right side of his bed near the small table where his katanas lay. Opening the storage box, he pulled out a medium sized bottle filled with red liquid. Uncorking it, the Harbinger put the bottle to his lips and drank. The effects of the potion were almost instant as his skin became less and less black and reverted to its original color, taking the pain along with it. He smiled as he finished the bottles contents. Arcadia's potions really were in a class of their own.

Finished, the Harbinger placed the bottle back in the chest and grabbed his steel armor. He strode into the display chamber of his bedroom, fastening the straps of his armor as he went. He heard a multitude of footsteps approach the closed doors of his chambers. A moment later, Ria, Vilkas, Aela and Farkas walked in. Ria had a look of worry plastered to her features while the Circle members all stared at him with even looks.

"What are you doing?" Ria askd as she walked up to the man. "The Medicus gave plain instruction for you to remain in bed."

The Harbinger waved his hand dismissively as he continued to put his armor on. "Two weeks upon my back sees advice well heeded," he said. "Any longer and even my cock will cease knowing how to stand."

Aela smirked. "His spirit returns."

"Nice to see you back on your feet and off your back-side." Farkas remarked with a large grin on his face.

"You know I don't like having so much down time," the Harbinger said defensively as he crossed his arms. "Not unless I'm using the time for training, which I've been parted from for too long."

Vilkas shook his head slowly. "You'd better hope Danica and the Medicus don't hear you say that," he warned. "They can be… touchy when it comes to their patients health."

"Its to late for that Companion," said Danica as she and the Medicus approached the group of warriors. "Danica has already found out."

The priestess walked over to the Harbinger and gave him a stern look. "What, pray tell, do you think you're doing out of bed?"

"Getting back to my duties as Harbinger." the young leader answered simply.

"Not without my say so," Danica said as she crossed her arms. "I need to make sure your wounds have healed properly."

The Harbinger rolled his eyes, exasperated. "I am not a babe new dropped from fucking womb."

"Harbinger!" Ria snapped.

"Fine, fine!" he said, un-strapping the upper portion of his armor. "Just make it quick, I have important matters to attend."

It was a full ten minutes before Danica and the Medicus finished their examination of the Nord and gave him a clean bill of health.

"Well, you're all set to go," Danica told the young leader. "But if you have a relapse or any of your wounds flare up you come are to come to me immediately, am I understood?"

The Harbinger frowned, rolling his eyes. "Yes mother, anything else?"

After a final glare Danica and the Medicus finally departed, leaving the group of warriors to their business. The Harbinger then shifted his attention to the four warriors standing before him.

"Now that that's over, we can focus on more important matters. Tell me, what has happened in these last two weeks I've been bed ridden?"

"Nothing to serious," Vilkas answered as he leaned against the wall. "The bandits in the area had gotten a little bolder in our absence, but Torvar and Athis rectified that."

"Wait, Torvar and Athis took care of a bandit gang by themselves?" the Harbinger asked, his tone suggesting he was half surprised and half impressed.

"It comes as a bit of a surprise to us all," Aela admitted. "But it's to be expected. After all, they did help in the fight against the Jackal while you were away in Ivarstead, its no surprise their skill in battle has improved."

Aela was right. The constant battles with the Jackal would have no doubt forced the Athis and the other whelps to improve their fighting prowess. The Harbinger smirked, it would only be a matter if time before each of them would be able to match a member of the Circle in battle. That was assuming they didn't become complacent in their training.

"Impressive," the Harbinger praised as he took a seat at the small table in the room. "And what of Ria and Njada?"

Ria perked slightly at the mention of herself. Noticing it, Aela spoke on her behalf.

"Both continue to show remarkable skill in battle," she praised the Imperial. "Just recently the two were able to take down a giant on their own. Barley needed any help."

"A giant!?" the Harbinger exclaimed, his brow shooting up in surprise. He glanced over at the young Imperial and gave her a look of approval. "I must say Ria, I'm impressed. Not many warriors can go toe to toe with a giant and live. It seems your skills with a sword are steadily improving."

Ria's cheeks reddened at the words of praise from her Harbinger despite her attempt to maintain a cool demeanor.

"Thank you, Harbinger."

"Don't mean to cut this touching little moment short," Farkas started. "But the Circle has some things to talk about."

Nodding, the Harbinger turned his gaze on the young Imperial. "We'll have to talk more about your adventures later on, Ria. For now, return to Njada and the others."

"Yes Harbinger."

The Imperial turned on her heels and left the room, leaving the Circle members to discuss important matters.

"So, what's so important that Ria needs to leave the room?" the Harbinger inquired. Interested in what his comrades had to say.

"Because it concerns her and that of the beast blood." Vilkas answered. The Harbinger looked quizzically at the older twin. They couldn't possibly be thinking what he suspected they were thinking, could they?

Rising from his seat, the Harbinger made his way to his chamber doors and closed them before turning back to his shield-brother. "What are you saying Vilkas?"

"With all due respect Harbinger, you know exactly what I speak of." the elder twins tone was deep and full of seriousness.

The Harbinger's brow furrowed in contemplation, this was truly a stunning turn of events. Ria was by the far the youngest Companion in Jorrvaskr, being only twenty-two years of age. She was for the most part an excellent swordsman and skilled fighter, rare for someone of her years. But for all her skill, Ria was prone to impatient and rash actions on the battlefield that would sometimes lead to her being injured. For Vilkas to actually suggest that they make her a member of the Circle was… confounding.

"You realize what you're asking, right Vilkas?" the Harbinger walked past his friends and sat back in his seat.

"Of course!" Vilkas snapped, slightly offended by the question. "I wouldn't reveal our secret to just anyone! Ria has proven herself in these past two weeks. Not just against giants, but the Silver Hand as well."

The Harbinger's eyes turned feral. "The Silver Hand?"

"The cowards tried to ambush us on a job in Falkreath," Aela started to explain. "We were returning to Whiterun when handful of them came from nowhere and assaulted us. The battle was intense, but we eventually killed the lot of them. Including one of Krev's lieutenants."

The Harbinger raised a single eyebrow. "I'm assuming Ria killed this man?"

Aela nodded. "Correct. And I assure you Harbinger, he was no pushover."

Leaning back in his chair, the young Nord closed his eyes and rubbed his chin in thought. For Ria to take down a high ranking Silver Hand agent was impressive, and showed her worth as a warrior. Not only that, but for Aela and the other Circle members to actually give their blessing to her was astounding, to say the least.

After another minute of quiet thought, the Harbinger slowly opened his eyes and looked upon his comrades. "You all truly believe that she is worthy to join the ranks of The Circle? To stand ready and receive the primal blood that flows within us all?"

They answered in unison. "Yes, Harbinger."

"Very well, I will make my decision… _after_ she is tested."

Farkas stepped forward. "So, I guess I'll be taking her to Dustman's Cairn for the test."

The Harbinger shook his head. "No Farkas, I will be the one to accompany her." he told the large Nord. "I've been on my backside for two whole weeks and have yet to witness her battle prowess with my own eyes. I will go and judge her worth for myself."

"Well, alright. If you say so." Farkas said as he scratched the back of his head.

"Very well, then I will break words with the girl when I head to the mead hall," the Harbinger said as he rose to his feet. "But before that, I want to know if there are any contracts left for today."

Vilkas pulled a folded piece of paper from one of his armor pouches and handed it to the young leader. "We've only one left, came in just before we went to your chambers. Apparently, a large group of bandits have been raiding Riverwood, they apparently killed two guards and a citizen in the process. Jarl Balgruuf has lost too many men to the Jackal and cant afford to send any reinforcements, so the people have asked for our assistance in purging the cutthroats from their town."

"Bandits," the Harbinger murmered, a feral smirk forming on his lips. "They will make excellent training."

Pocketing the missive, the Harbinger gestured for the other to follow him and walked out his chamber doors.

"Before I depart, I must pay a quick visit to Eorlund."

-_Jorrvaskr: Mead Hall_-

"So, what did he say?" Njada asked as she finished her bottle of ale.

Ria shrugged. "He told me he was impressed by our recent victories, then asked me to leave so he and the Circle members could speak in private. I haven't heard anything since."

Stonearm folded her arms over her chest and leaned back in her seat, staring up at the ceiling as she did. "Just once I'd like to go on a job with him. Just the two of us, then I can show him just how much I've improved my skills."

"That's about as likely as Athis beating you in a fist fight!" Torvar bleated as he raised his mug in the air. The three Companions erupted in laughter at the drunk's remark, all except the man who was being laughed at.

"The lot of you can burn in Oblivion." Athis grumbled as he took a sip of his ale.

Ria walked over to the Dunmer and patted him on the back. "Oh don't be mad, we're only joking."

"That makes one of us." Njada quipped.

At that moment, the Harbinger and the other Circle members emerged from the living quarters and made their way to the doors leading to the training yard.

"Ria!" the Harbinger called out, startling the young Imperial. "I would have words."

"Y-yes Harbinger!" Ria made her way to the group of warriors. She stood before them, slightly nervous from the stares she was receiving but steadfast and proud in her stance nonetheless.

"Gather your weapons and equipment," the Harbinger ordered the young Imperial girl. "We're heading out."

Ria stood with a confused look plastered to her face for a moment before she spoke.

"W-we?" she stammered. "I don't-"

"Bandits have been harassing the people of Riverwood, so they've asked us to take care of the criminals. You are to be my shield sister on this job. I'm heading up to the Skyforge to speak to Eorlund, so meet me there when you've acquired everything you need."

Turning on thier heels, the Harbinger and the other Circle members exited Jorrvaskr. Without a word, Ria quickly made her way to the Jorrvaskr living quarters, eager to gather her equipment and join her Harbinger in their first assignment together. Arriving at her assigned bed, Ria grabbed her knapsack and began to fill the bag with various health and stamina potions. With her preparations finished, the Imperial slung the bag over her shoulder, grabbed her Skyforged sword and shield and made her way back to the mead hall and to the Skyforge.

-_Skyforge_-

"Here you are," Eorlund said as he handed two Skyforged steel swords to the Harbinger. "They'll be fine substitutes until you can repair your own weapons. I made them lighter than they usually are to better replicate the lightness of your katanas, so you wont have to worry too much about finding a balance."

The Harbinger strapped the twin blades to his hip and threw the old smith a bag-full of coins, over five hundred to be exact. It had come as a surprise when Eorlund had said he'd already created two twin blades for the young warrior days before he'd even returned from High Hrothgar. Apparently, Eorlund knew how treacherous the roads leading from Ivarstead back to Whiterun were and figured his blades would be in a serious state of disrepair. Not that the Harbinger was complaining.

"Gratitude, Eorlund," the young Nord thanked the old smith as he gave his new blades a few light swings. "I'll make sure to put these to good use."

Sheathing his weapons, the Harbinger turned to see a spry looking Ria approaching with a large smile across her face.

"I'm all set, Harbinger," she announced, the smile never leaving her face. "I'm ready whenever you are."

"Good, we leave immediately," the young Nord said as he brushed past the Imperial. He turned and locked eyes with Aela. "Aela, You're in charge while I'm out."

The Huntress merely nodded in reply. With that, Ria and the Harbinger made their way to the Wind District. A mistake the young leader immediately regretted. Within seconds, the Harbinger found himself surrounded by admirers, well-wishers and all around fans of his exploits.

"Is it always like this for you?" Ria inquired as she tried her best to stay close to the young Nord in the ever increasing crowd of admirers.

The Harbinger smirked. "Just about."

From his peripheral, the Harbinger noticed a path being created within the crowd of people. Emerging from the large mob was none other than Irileth, Housecarl to Jarl Balgruuf. She eyed the two Companions curiously before breaking her silence.

"Jarl Balgruuf wishes to speak with you."

-_Dragonsreach_-

"Are you sure about this, Farengar?" Balgruuf inquired to his court wizard. "I've heard the tales about that place. I don't want to send the boy to his death over an object that may or may not even exist."

Farengar waved his hand in dismissal. "True, we don't know if the stone exists or not. But if it does, the knowledge it holds would prove most valuable, and who better to look in to retrieving it than our own resident Jackal slayer."

Lisaa, who had been quiet for the majority of the time finally spoke up. "The Harbinger is not some servant you can just order around, Farengar," she argued, never bothering to hide the disdain in her voice. "He is a Companion, his job is to help to people of Skyrim, not go exploring in some old ruin."

"With all do respect Lady Lisaa, We have no idea who the boy even is," Farengar pointed out. "We know that he is the one who leads the Companions, that is certain. But we have no information as to who he _is_ exactly. Oblivion, we don't even know his name, he refuses to reveal it from what I hear. Who's to say he's not some wanted criminal, or a serial killer?"

Lisaa glared angrily at the mage. "I cannot believe you would even think such a thing! For you to question his loyalty is to call my father's judgment of character into question!"

They turned to Balgruuf, who stood with his arms crossed and his eyes shut in thought. Farengar had a point. They knew nothing of the Harbinger's past or his deeds up until this point. Who knew what the boy had done before he came to Skyrim. Despite knowing next to nothing of his past, Balgruuf knew the young Harbinger was an individual who could be trusted.

"You needn't worry, Farengar," the Jarl assured the mage. "The Harbinger is one who can be trusted. Kodlak placed all his faith in the boy, something I've never seen him do with any of the new-bloods that came before him. I have no doubt that the boy is loyal to Whiterun."

"As you say, Jarl." Farengar said with a bow.

Hearing the sound of footsteps Balgruuf turned to the doorway and was rewarded with the sight of Irileth, the Harbinger and a young Imperial woman. He opened his mouth to greet the young leader but found himself cut off by his court mage.

"Ah, our young Jackal killer graces us with his presence, and I see you've brought a friend."

"We're on an important job," the Harbinger deadpanned, not wanting to hear any of the mage's condescending remarks. "I'd appreciate it if you skipped the formalities and get to the point of all this."

"Hmm, it seems a lack of manners is something all Companions share." Farengar quipped, earning himself a steely glare from the Harbinger.

"Enough, Farengar." the Jarl ordered. "Just fill him in on the situation."

"Very well," the mage pulled out a map of Skyrim and placed it on his desk before putting a finger on the dark blob with the name Whiterun. "We are here. South-West of where we are lies Bleak Falls Barrow. According to the myths, Bleak Falls houses the legendary Dragon Stone."

Ria furrowed her brow in confusion. "I don't see how this has anything to do with us."

The Harbinger let a large smirk for on his lips. "Don't you get it? Farengar obviously wants us to retrieve the stone from the barrow, am I right?"

Farengar nodded. "Indeed, but there's a bit of a catch. According to the records, no one has ever managed to retrieve the artifact. So its safe to assume its still inside. But, there's also a chance the stone may not even exist, as no one has seen it for hundreds of years."

"Wait a minute," Ria began, annoyance apparent in her voice. "You want us to explore some old ruin in order to retrieve some stone that may or may not exist?"

"I'm in agreement with Ria," the Harbinger stated. "Why go through all the trouble of looking for an old slab of rock that may not even be real?"

"A good question," Farengar piped. "What is actually on the stone varies with each retelling, but all agree on this: The stone shows both a glimpse into the mind of the dragons and the location of several of their ancient burial sites. If dragons are indeed returning, any information we gain from this venture could prove useful in the future."

The Harbinger's blood went cold and his entire body stiffened slightly. "Is that what this was about?" he asked the mage. "Dragons?"

"Unfortunately, it is." Balgruuf said grimly. The Harbinger and Ria turned to face the Jarl. "We've had eight sighting of what appeared to be a dragon in the last week alone. I don't want the fate of Helgen to befall the city of Whiterun. If there's anything we can do to better prepare ourselves for a dragon attack, I will take whatever steps necessary to ensure the city's survival."

The Harbinger let out a heavy sigh. There was no way that he could decline the mage's request, not when the very lives of the city's people depended on the mythical stone. But, there was a silver lining beyond the dark fog. The Harbinger decided to make their decent into Bleak Falls part of Ria's acceptance test. What better way to judge how she reacted under pressure than to explore some dark Nordic ruin that could be crawling with gods know what.

"Very well," the young Nord started. "We will search for this… Dragon Stone of yours."

Farengar practically beamed. "Wonderful! I will-"

"_After_ we have finished with our current task," the Harbinger said. Cutting the mage's words short. "Riverwood is in need of assistance. Bandits have been raiding the town and have already killed three people, two of them guardsmen."

"Well, then you two are in luck," Farengar chirped, looking very pleased with what he was about to tell the two Companions. "Coincidentally, Bleak Falls is in the same area as Riverwood. If I were you, I'd get going as soon as possible."

Deciding to deal with the Mage's smug remarks another day, the Harbinger turned on his heals and started for the exit, Ria close behind.

"Be careful, Habinger," Balgruuf suddenly warned. "That stone may indeed hold information we can use against the Dragons, but I don't want you to lose your lives over it. Please, take care of yourselves."

The young Nord gave the Jarl a light nod before briefly looking over to his daughter. She had the look again, the same one she had when he was to face the Jackal. Why she had that look about her was anyone's guess, but he had no time to concern himself with the thoughts of women. He had a town to save.

Turning from the blonde, the Harbinger and his shield-sibling promptly walked out of the mage's study and made their way out of Dragonsreach.

Farengar made his way to Balgruuf's side and folded his arms. "Do you think he'll succeed?" he inquired, feeling slightly guilty about sending the young leader on such a dangerous quest. "I'm aware that his skills with a blade are top class, but-"

"If that stone does in fact exist, then he'll be the one to find it." Balgruuf assured the mage.

Lisaa cupped her hands together and squeezed them tight, silently hoping for the warrior's safe return.

-_Whiterun: Plains District_-

Ria quietly strode beside the Harbinger as they made their way towards the main gate. The young Nord hadn't uttered a single word since they'd left Dragonsreach. Ria wondered if he was feeling slightly fearful about the job they had just accepted, but quickly crushed the absurd thought. Her Harbinger was many things, but fearful was defiantly not one of them.

Upon reaching the Whiterun gates, the Harbinger finally broke his silence. "You've been awfully quiet Ria, something bothering you?"

Ria gave the Nord a quizzical look. "I could ask the same of you, Harbinger."

The guardsman who stood at the gate gave them a respectful nod and opened the barrier. The two Companions continued on, making their way to the carriage transport posted outside the walls. Spotting the two warriors, the driver gave them a wave.

"Hey, need a ride? I can take ya to any of the hold capitals."

"We seek travel to Riverwood." the Harbinger said as he gave the driver a small bag of coins.

"Alright, climb in and we'll be off."

The Harbinger, in a rare display of gentleman like courtesy, took the Imperial by the hand and helped her into the carriage.

Ria gave him a sly smile. "What's this? The mighty Harbinger helping me into a carriage? You must be a lot more nervous about this job than I thought."

"Nervous?" the Nord started as he climbed into the cart. "You truly believe me to be apprehensive about a group of ill trained criminals?"

"There's a first time for everything." the Imperial quipped.

The Harbinger let a tiny smile spread across his lips. He had never taken Ria as his shield sibling on any of the jobs he had ever been on, instead opting to travel alone and be left to his thoughts. This job in particular would prove most interesting.

-_White River Watch_-

It had been a good week for Hajvarr and his crew. The Jarl of Whiterun had been so preoccupied with attacks from the Jackal and the day to day affairs of the city that his constant assault on Riverwood and the trading caravans went almost unnoticed. A few of the guards posted in the small town had once attempted to raid the cave which they were stationed, but had been completely routed and driven out.

White River Watch was an ideal spot to make their base of operations. The overlook offered a view of the roads of Whiterun, making spotting traders and potential threats easy. The cave had previously been inhabited by another group of bandits weeks prior, but they had apparently been eradicated by the Companions. Not that the current residents were complaining.

Hajvarr sat at a small table sorting out the spoils of their most recent raid, the people of Riverwood were a lot more wealthy than they led on. Particularly the Imperial who was in charge of the towns general goods shop. The bandit leader gave a sinister grin as he remembered the day of their attack. They had spared most of the towns populace during the raid, save for two guards and a rather bold citizen who'd foolishly tried to stop them.

The bandit leader smiled as he placed the groups loot in the large chest to his left.

"Boss, we got movement!"

Hajvarr sprang to his feet and quickly made his way to the ledge. The bandit leader stood on the edge of the mountain and smiled.

"Well lick my hole," he snickered as he watched a carriage carrying two occupants. From the looks of their route, they appeared to be heading to Riverwood. "Looks like we got ourselves a couple of travelers."

"You want me to send some of the boys to ambush them?" the scout asked as he prepared to alert the others inside.

Hajvarr shook his head. "No, let them pass," he told the scout. "We'll give them a proper greeting in Riverwood."

-_Riverwood_-

The Harbinger could feel the tension in the air as he and Ria arrived in the small town of Riverwood. People went about their daily routines as any other day of the week, but had looks of fear plastered to their faces. The usual laughter of children had all but vanished and the remaining guards seemed to jump at even the sound of rustling trees.

Whoever these bandits were, they seemed to have put the fear of the gods in the townsfolk. When the carriage finally came to a stop, the two Companions gathered their belongings and hopped off.

After a quick survey of the small town, Ria finally spoke. "Strange," she said in a hushed voice. "Njada and I have been sent here many times. The people here are usually so lively. It's a little off-putting to see everyone so… afraid."

"I'm not surprised," the Harbinger said. "Most bandits groups would usually kill the town's inhabitants after their raids. The fact that they're letting the townsfolk _and_ the guards live tells me that they're trying to make a statement."

Ria raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"That _they_ are the ones who are in control of their fate. That they make the rules, and decides who lives and who dies."

Ria opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by a nearby argument between a man and woman. From what she could hear, thieves had broken into their store and stolen an incredibly valuable item. The woman wanted to take matter into her own hands and pursue the criminals to their hideout, but was cut short by the male who forbade her taking any immediate action.

"Sounds like those people's business was broken into," Ria observed as they walked past the general store. "Whatever the thieves took must've been really valuable."

"Strike it from your mind," the Harbinger ordered, eyes still faced forward. "Turn thoughts towards the task at hand. Unless they ask for the assistance of the Companions, their problem is not our concern."

Ria nodded. "Yes, Harbinger."

As they passed the local smithy, one of the town guards approached them.

"Is this it? Are you the only two they sent!?" the guard all but shouted, earning them confused glances from a few passing townspeople.

"Two Companions are more than enough, I assure you." the Harbinger said, his face devoid of any emotion.

Even behind his helmet Ria could tell the man was staring daggers at the young leader, and his body language was slightly hostile as well. "Look, while I'm glad to have you at our backs, our chances of victory are still slim to none."

Ria shifted. "How so?"

The guards shoulders dropped slightly. "Those damn bandits did a real number on us. They came out of nowhere, tons of them, started attacking anything that moved. We tried to stop them, but there were to many. In the end, most of us were beaten to a pulp and two more of the men were killed."

The Harbinger crossed his arms over his chest. "And the civilian?"

The guard's head hung low. "Erval, he helped defend the town when the Bandits attacked," he said sadly. "He was ran through after he killed three of the raiders. He was a good man, and… my friend as well."

The Harbinger placed a hand on the guards shoulder. "We will see all responsible to the afterlife, you have my word."

"Thank you, Companion. But we still have a problem. Most of our injuries have yet to heal. Lucan Valerius gave us some potions, put it was only enough to get us on our feet again, we're not in a fighting condition. that's why I had hoped more of you would come."

"How many of there are you left?" the young leader asked.

The guard shrugged. "About eight of us, including myself."

Frowning, the Harbinger pulled his knapsack of his back and began to rummage through its contents. He pulled out an extremely large bottle filled with a red liquid and handed it to the guard.

"Take this, and divide it amongst your men. There should be more than enough for all of you."

The guard stared at the bottle of elixir for a quick moment before looking back to the Harbinger. "What is it?"

The young leader shook his head. "It's a potion of ultimate healing," he said, trying to keep the irritation in his voice to a minimum. "Drink it and you and the other guardsmen will be back to fighting condition. Ria and I will prepare for the bandit's arrival."

The guard gave a light shudder. "Arrival? You don't mean-"

"On our way here I spotted two men atop White River Watch observing our carriage. I have no doubt in my mind that they will attack the town very soon."

"What are we going to do, Harbinger?" Ria inquired, a hint of worry in her tone. "It is only the two of us plus the eight guards. From what this man tells us, the bandits have the superior numbers. How are we expected to win?"

"Wait, you're the Harbinger of the Companions? The same one who defeated the Jackal?"

"Let me worry about that," the Nord retorted, ignoring the guards reaction to discovering his identity. "Just make sure you're ready when the time comes," he turned to the guard. "Go, deliver the potion to the other guardsmen and return swiftly. There is something I would have you do."

The guard put his fist on his chest. "Yes, Harbinger!"

The man took off towards the inn, trailing dust is he went. The Harbinger turned to the young Imperial beside him. "I'm going to go lay some traps around the town. In the meantime, I want you to prepare yourself for the battle. Make sure you watch yourself out there Ria, if you aren't clear to your purpose, you will fall to the afterlife. Understand?"

The Imperial nodded, fire raging in her eyes. "Yes, Harbinger!"

As the young leader turned, a laugh belonging to a voice he'd never heard filled his ears.

"Well, well, well… this is a surprise. The slayer of the Jackal back on his feet and already on the job. I must say, I'm very impressed."

Turning to face the owner of the voice, the Harbinger grimaced. He had never once laid eyes upon the man, yet he immediately knew who he was currently looking upon. Standing before him, clad head to toe in Elven light armor and escorted by a large Redguard and a lithe looking Imperial woman, was none other than Pericles.

The Harbinger's grimace had not left his face even as the three warriors began to slowly approach him.

"_Fuck the gods…_" he thought to himself.

ËËË

"_Hey, you're awake." a blonde haired Nord said. The future Harbinger lifted his head wearily, grimacing from the pain that followed. His gaze fell upon five other Nords, one of which was gagged by a white cloth, the other a scrawny looking fellow with unkempt brown hair dressed in rags. _

"_Hey," the blonde Stormcloak continued. "You were trying to cross the border right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us." _

_Again, there was silence. The future Harbinger didn't feel particularly chatty at that moment, what with the constant pain that throbbed on the back of his head. As his vision began to become less blurred, he took a moment to asses his predicament. He was currently being carted off to destinations unknown by what appeared to be Legion officers, bound by the wrist like the others in the carriage with him. He noticed, to his surprise, that instead of the simple rope bindings, he was held in strong steel cuffs._

"_Why in Oblivion am I the only one in chains?" he thought._

"_So," the blonde haired Nord started. "What's your story? What reasons do you have for returning home at a time like this?"_

_The future Harbinger's eyes fell to the floor, a frown forming on his lips. His story was one that he did not wish to remember, nor share with a complete stranger. The young Nord locked eyes with the blonde's, and gave a simple answer. "My own." _

ËËË

The Harbinger heaved out a long, tired sigh. He was never one to look back on his past, yet the Helgen incident had somehow found a way to resurface and plague his thoughts. His thoughts, however, were interrupted by the sounds of multiple footsteps approaching. A moment later, Pericles and his comrades stood before him. Though he wasn't fond of the man, the Harbinger had decided to place his personal feelings aside and allow Pericles and his friends to assist with their job.

"Your traps are all set," the blonde haired Nord informed him. "All there is to do is wait."

The Harbinger nodded. "Good, are you three prepared for this?"

Avik slammed his fist into his ebony clad chest. "We're _always _ready for a fight."

"We'll see. Now, where is Ria?"

"I'm here," the Imperial said as she made her way towards the group. "Is everything in place?"

"Everything is in order," Avik answered. "All we have to do is wait for-"

Suddenly, the sound of a war horn pierced the sky. Moments later, the eight guardsmen came running up the ramp.

"They're nearly here," one of them announced. "We're ready whenever you are, Harbinger."

"Very well," the Harbinger said. "Let us begin the festivities."

ËËË

"Alright boys, you know the drill!" Hajvarr shouted as they passed the small bridge leading to the town.. "Take anything of value, kill anyone who gets in your way!"

The bandits raised their weapons in the air and shouted war cries before charging the town. As he ran along with his men, a faint sparkle on the ground ahead caught Hajvarr's eye. After a moment of sifting through his memory, realization and terror struck the bandit leader like a ton of stones.

"HALT! STOP THE CHARGE YOU FOOLS, IT'S A TRAP!"

Before the bandits could even register what their boss had just told them, the fires of Oblivion were unleashed upon them.

ËËË

The Harbinger could not help but grin as the many fire and lighting runes were set off almost simultaneously. The bandits were in a state of panic, shouting to the heavens as more and more of the arcane traps were triggered and even more of their comrades were blown to bits or electrocuted to death. The smell of burning flesh soon permeated the air, filling the nostrils of anyone within the vicinity.

By the time all the runes had been set off, the number of bandits had been cut in half. The charred remains of the bandits that had walked into the traps lay sprawled across the floor, their limbs either completely blown off or bent in awkward positions. The remaining bandits stood flummoxed, still trying to register what had just transpired.

The Harbinger drew his twin blades and turned to Ria and the other fighters. "Now!"

Not wasting any time, Ria and the others drew their weapons and charged into the multitude of enemies. Livia was the first to draw blood, burying her sword deep into one of the criminals stomach. Avik raised his giant ebony battleaxe and brought it down upon the head of an unfortunate Dark Elf, splitting it in two and spewing blood in all directions. A rather large Imperial bandit attempted to bring his war hammer down upon Pericles, only for the Nord to sidestep the attack and drive his blade through his skull.

Ria's shield impacted against another bandits windpipe, a sickening crack following soon after. The man fell to the floor, gurgling and spitting up blood until he ceased to move. Ria turned just in time to see a large, menacing looking Orc with a large war hammer over his head charging right at her, saliva dripping from his mouth as he went. The Imperial crouched down and brought her shield up, something she immediately regretted. The Osmir's weapon slammed into her shield, sending violent vibrations through her arm.

She let out a single grunt of pain before she lashed out with a counterattack. Her blade slipped through the folds of the Orc's armor and embedded itself in his abdomen. The Osmir snarled in pain and slammed the butt of his hammer into the woman's head. Ria reeled backward, the world around her spinning from the dizziness the blow brought about. The Orc again raised his weapon high above his head, fully intent on finishing the little Imperial off.

But Ria had other plans. Rolling away from the death blow, she quickly sprang to her feet and swung her sword upwards and was rewarded with the satisfying sight of blood erupting from the Orc's throat. Heaving out a tired sigh, Ria turned to search for any sign of her Harbinger. What she saw next was remarkable. The Harbinger was currently engaged in combat with a least four bandits of varying sizes and weaponry. The criminals laughed and shouted in arrogance as they hounded the young leader with a barrage of relentless attacks, reveling in the high that accompanied battle.

One of the bandits suddenly thrust his weapon forward, attempting to skewer the young Nord. With battle honed reflexes, the Harbinger sidestepped the attack and slashed at the outlaw's arm before driving his second blade through his neck. With one of their allies killed, the three remaining bandits started to charge the young Nord. But the Harbinger was already upon them. Ria was speechless, she had never seen anyone fight the way the young leader did.

The way he moved, the speed and precision of his attacks, his superhuman-like reflexes. All of these combined with his deadly skill with a sword made it seemingly impossible for any foe to stand against him. Ria was so enthralled by her leaders combat prowess that she almost didn't hear the battle cry of a bandit behind her. Spinning on her heels, the Imperial raised her shield just in time to stop a mace from caving her pretty face in.

Ria stepped back, putting some distance between her and her attacker. The bandit was an unexpectedly muscular Khajiit clad in tight leather armor and wielded two steel maces. His large cat eyes locked with her own as he began to circle the young Imperial. Ria stood her ground, shield held in front of her and sword at her side, ready for the onslaught to come.

With a feral roar, the Khajiit lunged forward and attacked. He raised the two maces over his head brought them down upon the Imperial. Ria jumped out of the mace's path and countered with a forward thrust, but the agile cat man rolled away, the blade just missing him by mere inches. The Imperial pressed the attack, not wanting to give the bandit time to retaliate.

The Khajiit grunted in frustration as he struggled to parry the blitzkrieg of relentless sword strikes the woman was dishing out. He attempted to roll off to the side to put some distance between himself and the Imperial. Instead, his face met the edge of Ria's shield. The bandit's head snapped back from the force of the impact and he feel to the floor in a bloody heap. Ria drove her sword through the cat's gullet, finishing the bandit off.

As she withdrew her blade from the corpse, another one of the outlaws fell upon her. He lifted a massive Orcish battleaxe high in the air and brought it down. Ria froze solid. The bandit was much to close for her to block or move out of the path of the attack, and there was no way she could take being hit with a weapon of that size without being cleaved in two. She was helpless and could only watch in disbelief as the gigantic axe inched ever closer to send her to the afterlife.

_Damn…_

Suddenly, the blades of two steel swords came bursting through the man's chest, splattering blood across the young Imperials face. The Harbinger lifted the outlaw off his feet before violently throwing him back to the floor. Ria looked up at the young leader, the shock of the ordeal still plastered upon her features.

"Harbinger, I-"

"Save your words for another time," he said as he sheathed his dual blades and helped her to her feet. "The bandit chief's forces have been taken care of, he's the only one who remains."

Ria looked over to see the bandit leader on his knees with his hands bound behind his back. The eight guardsmen, Pericles, Livia and Avik stood surrounding the man, weapons drawn and ready to send him to the afterlife if he tried anything. As they approached the group of warriors, the people of Riverwood came flooding out of their homes. The Harbinger gave a light smile as he, Ria and the others were swallowed by the mob of townsfolk, thanking them for saving them and their city. He was shaking the hand of the local sword smith Alvor when one of the guards approached him.

"Now that we have Hajvarr in custody the people can rest easy," he told them. "We'll have a crew remove the bodies and clean the surrounding area. Thank you for everything you've done Companions, I doubt we could have done this without you."

The guard bowed his head in respect before he turned and left the two Companions.

"So, I guess we're done here," Ria pointed out. "I take it our next stop is Bleak Falls?"

"Excuse me, did I hear you say you were going to Bleak Falls?"

The two Companions turned and were greeted with the sight of an Imperial wearing a red tunic, tan pants and brown boots. The Harbinger stared at the man, tying to decide if he was trustworthy or a potential threat. After a few moments, the young warrior relaxed a bit and replied.

"We are."

The man gave a delighted smile, something that gave the Harbinger a bad feeling. The barrow was rumored to be crawling with all manner of foul creatures and riddled with booby traps. The fact that this man was smiling about them going there could only mean one thing.

"My name is Lucan, I own the general goods store here in town." he explained. "How would you like to help me with a little… problem of mine."

**Hello everyone, its Zero again. First off, let me apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I know every time I apologies you guys tell me that its okay, but I still feel the need to say it. Now, I KNOW I said that this chapter would be the one with Bleak Falls, and I KNOW that I said I would reveal the Harbinger's name. The thing is, I had some setbacks with the length of this chapter. While its long, I didn't want to include Bleak Falls because I would have had a forty to fifty page chapter on my hands. Plus, I wanted to have a chapter with Ria and the Harbinger interacting with each other. But I promise you, the next chapter WILL have both Bleak Falls AND the revelation of the Harbinger's name, not to mention the very first Dragon fight! **

**I would also like to send a shout out to all the people who have taken to time to favorite, follow and review my story, its greatly appreciated and motivates me to keep on typing. Anyway, until the next chapter!**

_**Zero out **_


	12. Acceptance 8

Skyrim: Legend of the Dovahkiin

Acceptance 8

Ria let out a long, ragged sigh as she yanked her blade out of the skull of an Argonian bandit. It had been at least an hour or so since the Harbinger had agreed to retrieve Lucan's Golden Claw from a group of criminals that had stolen it a day prior.

As it was still daytime when they departed, getting to the barrow was no challenge, but getting in had taken some effort. The band of criminals were spread throughout the burial grounds, both inside and out. Ria and the Harbinger managed to fight their way through the barrow, sustaining almost no wounds of their own in the process.

They delved even further into the ancient burial site until they came upon yet another group of bandits who were attempting to open a large, reinforced metal gate, and quickly dispatched the brigands.

"I wonder, do you think these guys are from the same group of bandits we fought in Riverwood?" Ria asked.

The Harbinger shook his head. "Unlikely. If these lot were a part of Hajvaar's group they'd have already made off with whatever treasure they found in this place long ago, assuming they weren't killed by whatever calls this barrow home. Besides, Lucan mentioned that his… claw, was stolen the day after Hajvaar and his men raided the town. How he managed to hide the thing from the brigands for so long is a mystery in itself."

"Well, now what do we do about that?" Ria said as she gestured to the iron gate in front of them.

"Simple, solve the puzzle."

The Imperial furrowed her brow in confusion. "Puzzle?"

"Indeed. The ancient Nords were notorious for incorporating puzzles into any piece of architecture they built, so as to protect the treasures and secrets they held from would be grave-robbers and plunderers. Look," the young Nord pointed over to what appeared to be drawings of animals. "The two images on the top look like a snake and some kind of sea animal, and the one near the lever also resembles a snake."

"I see," Ria said as her eyes widened in realization. "So we have to match those spinning totems with the images on the walls."

"Correct. Now, let's get to it."

The duo quickly changed the pattern of the totems and pulled on the lever, opening the ancient portal. The two Companions pressed forward, descending down the winding staircase though yet another tunnel. As they ventured forward, the Harbinger heard a faint noise. His eyes narrowed at the sound and he drew one of his swords. Ria followed suit, pulling her blade from its scabbard.

"Is something wrong, Harbinger?" the Imperial inquired.

The young Nord went silent for ten seconds before he finally responded. "Steel yourself, Ria," he told her, his tone devoid of any kind of emotion. "I don't know what lies ahead, but if you want to survive, keep your guard up at _all_ times."

"Got it." Ria gripped her sword and shield tighter as they trudged onward.

The Harbinger was impressed with the girl's nerve. Most newbie warriors would have outright lost their calm demeanor and flew into a state of overwhelming fear, something he was used to seeing. Ria remained calm and focused, her mind fixed only on the task at hand. The young leader smirked, he hadn't been this impressed with someone in a long while.

The Harbinger's brow furrowed. There it was again, that damn noise. Was it real, or was he just hearing things? Ria didn't give any indication that she'd heard it either, as she remained silent. The noise again found its way to the Harbinger's ear, this time a lot clearer.

"Did you hear that?" Ria suddenly asked.

"Yeah. Sounded like… panicked shouting."

"You think someone's in trouble?"

The Harbinger shrugged. "Sounds like it. Come on."

The Companions moved through the tunnel at a faster, but cautious pace, taking care not to trigger any traps that may have been active. As they descended further into the barrow, the two warriors could pick up the noise more clearly than they had before. It was definitely panicked shouting and cries for help. Someone was in trouble.

The duo broke into a full sprint, barreling through the ancient tunnel, their previously cautious nature all but abandoned. They arrived in a large antechamber, the last room before the burial chambers. After a quick glance around the place, the Harbinger immediately drew his second blade. Ria gave the young swordsman a curious look before she finally took notice of their surroundings.

Spider webs. Giant spider webs covered the entire chamber, and nearly everything inside it. On the opposite end, held firmly in place, was a male Dunmer.

Upon seeing the two warriors, the man called to them. "You two, hurry and cut me down! Quickly, before it comes back!"

The Harbinger felt a pit form in his stomach at the Elf's mention of 'it.' That could mean only one thing. Almost as if confirming the young leader's suspicions, a large, horrific looking nightmare of a spider dropped from the ceiling above them, cutting them off from both the man and the way forward.

It was easily bigger than any house they had seen in Whiterun and just as wide. Its eyes darted back and forth between the two Companions, venom dripping from its maw, forming sizzling black pools of foul liquid.

Ria and the Harbinger's grip on their weapons tightened, and they fell into a battle stance.

"Be careful, Ria," the Harbinger warned. "A spider's movement can be erratic, but predictable If you watch it closely."

The spider slowly scuttled towards them, a predatory gleam in its eyes.

"Okay," Ria started as she backed away. "What exactly do I need to watch for?"

"A frostbite spider attacks in three specific ways depending on the range of its prey. At long range it will spit out a wad of venom, blinding its prey and sending them into a state of panic before they rush in for the kill. At mid range they'll usually try to throw itself at its kill, using its size to take them down."

"And the last method?"

"At close range it'll attack with one of its front legs. Be wary, the power of those strikes alone have ended the lives of many a warrior."

Before Ria could part her lips to reply the gigantic arachnid shot forward, hissing as it moved.

"Move!" the Harbinger shouted.

The duo dove to either side of the spider, narrowly avoiding the wad of concentrated venom the thing spat at them. Rising to his feet, the Harbinger went on the offensive and slid his swords across the arachnid's abdomen. The spider let out a hiss of pain and attempted to strike the Nord with one of its back legs but found only empty air as the young warrior again dived to the side. Again, he slashed at the vile creature, and was rewarded with spray of greenish black liquid that splattered across the floor.

Bellowing a battle cry, Ria shot forward, her shield held firmly and level with her face. She lashed out, delivering blow after blow, trying to penetrate the spider's though exoskeleton. Annoyed, the insect swatted the petite Imperial to the side. Ria was lifted off her feet and thrown into a pile of broken pottery and, while the initial landing hadn't cause any serious damage, the blow from the spider had shaken something lose.

The Imperial flew into a coughing fit, blood spewing from her with each hack. She cursed herself for not being more careful. Even after the Harbinger's warning, she still managed to let herself get wounded. By a bug of all things. Ria managed, though just barley, to rise to her feet. Just moments ago, her sword and shield felt almost weightless to her, like they were a natural part of her body. Now, she could barley hold on to them.

At that moment, the spider ran at her, hell-bent on making a short meal out of the foolish girl. Ria sluggishly raised her shield in a futile attempt to repel the oncoming assault of the house sized insect. The spider sprang off the ground and threw itself at the defenseless woman.

Suddenly, a war cry that Ria could only describe as 'heroic' resounded through the chamber. From the spider's left flank, the Harbinger launched himself through the air and drove his blades through the creature's side, knocking it off course. The spider squealed and flailed its legs around in pain as the young Nord stabbed, slashed, gouged and hacked at its side and soft underbelly. Panicking, the arachnid lashed out with a quick kick that caught the Nord in the chest, hurling him across the room.

The Harbinger slammed into one of the chamber arches and fell to the floor in a heap. While his steel armor had taken most of the damage, the sheer force of both impacts had managed to cause considerable blunt force trauma to his chest and back, no doubt leaving him with large bruises. Rising to his feet, the Harbinger charged at the heavily injured spider, ignoring the pain that surged through his body. The insect lashed out with a powerful strike with its front mandible, dead set on bludgeoning the human to a pulp.

Dodging, the Harbinger rolled underneath the overgrown arachnid and drove his twin blades into its stomach, black blood spraying and staining the floor thereafter. The Spider snarled in agony and began to sway as its legs started to buckle. Putting both his hands together, the Harbinger rammed them through the spider's underbelly and unleashed a powerful torrent of fire magic, scorching the beast from the inside out until its eyes exploded in a gory mess.

Yanking his hands free from its insides, the Harbinger rolled to the side as the spider's corpse collapsed on the ground in a charred heap, some of its legs even turning into ash. The young Nord rushed to the injured Imperials side and gently scooped her into his arms.

"Harbinger, I'm sorry. I rushed into the fight without thinking. Even after you warned me, I-" Ria flew into another bloody coughing fit..

"Be quiet," the Harbinger said. His words were hard, but held a hint of concern within them. "You've got massive internal bleeding. Stay still, this is going to hurt."

Calling fourth his strongest healing spell, the young Nord placed a hand over the area where the spider had struck the girl and let the magic wash over her body. Ria gave a small cry of pain as the healing magic began to repair the damage inside of her. Five minutes passed before the pain finally subsided and the Harbinger pulled his hand away.

Ria looked up at the young warrior and gave a weak smile. "I didn't know you were a healer."

The Harbinger smirked.

"You should be okay now, but I want you to go sit over by the shrine to regain your Barings while I go put our friend over there to question."

Ria looked over at the Dunmer who was still trapped within the spider's web, pleading with the Companions to cut him loose. Walking over to the Elf, the Harbinger crossed his arms and glared at the man.

"Where's the claw"

The Elf's brow furrowed in false confusion. "Claw? What claw? I have no idea what you're-"

"The Golden Claw, the one you stole from the general store owner in Riverwood."

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about!" the Elf shouted, still feigning ignorance. "You've got the wrong man! You-"

Fed up with the Dunmer's lies, the Harbinger decided to try a more… delicate approach. "Listen to me," he growled as he grabbed the man by the mouth. "I've spent more time than I want in this damned barrow, my Companion is hurt and my patience is wearing thin. You had better start coming clean or I'm going to start cutting off more than these webs."

The threat seemed to loosen his tongue, and he began to sing like a bird. "The claw, yes! I know all about it! The markings, the door in the Hall of Stories. I know how they all fit together! Cut me down and I'll show you, you won't believe the treasures the Nords have hidden here."

The Harbinger stared at the trapped bandit for a moment, processing everything the man had told him. He was skeptical to say the least. He didn't trust bandits as far as he could throw them. For all he knew, the Elf could be leading him into a trap. The Harbinger quickly pushed that thought aside, no way someone as careless as this bandit could ever hope to trap him.

"So, you gonna cut me down or not?" the Dunmer practically shouted.

Flicking his wrists, the Harbinger brought his flame magic to life and began to go to work on the silky adhesive. The Elf however, was not pleased the Nord's method of freeing him.

"Hey, be careful! Watch those flames!"

"Quiet, I'm almost finished."

The Elf hit the floor with a loud thud as the last of the webbing burned away and released him from his captivity. The Harbinger stepped forward.

"Now, I want the cl-"

The Dunmer cut Nord's sentence short by bashing him across the face with one of the burial urns that littered the chamber. The Elf quickly turned on his heels and darted down the tunnel leading to the burial chambers.

"You fool, why should I share my treasure with you!" he shouted as he ran.

Ria sprang to her feet, her earlier pain replaced by anger, as she ran to the young Nord.

"Harbinger, are you alright?"

The Nord merely nodded as he rubbed his temple. Though the scrawny Dunmer looked to have hit the young warrior with everything he had, it didn't look like he did any damage at all. Not so much as a scratch was visible upon the Nord's visage.

Ria glanced over at the tunnel entrance, anger flaring in her eyes. "I can't believe that fucking Elf would do that. Even after we saved him from being that spider's next meal! When I see that Elf I'm gonna-"

"Do nothing." the Harbinger finished.

Ria shot the Nord a confused look. "What, why? That Elf has the claw, he betrayed your kindness, he-"

"Won't be getting far," he again finished. Upon seeing her look of confusion, he elaborated on what he meant. "I knew he would pull some kind of double cross on me the moment I got him down, it wasn't difficult to see through his ruse. We don't have to worry about him making off with the claw either, the residents of the barrow will see to that."

"R-residents?" Ria stammered.

The Harbinger let a wicked grin form in the corner of his mouth. "The thing about these old crypts, the dead having trouble staying that way."

…

Njada made her way through the streets of Whiterun at a hurried pace, eager to return to the warmth and comfort of the Jorrvaskr mead hall. She had spent the last hour and a half helping several Whiterun guards dispatch a small group of bandits that harassing the miners at Halted Stream camp and was dying to unwind with a large plate of food, good mead, and a fistfight with Athis.

She smirked at the last part on her "to do" list, wondering what she was going to say to get the Elf riled up. Njada had just made her way up the steps leading to the hall when she heard the sound of raised voices coming from the training area. By the sound of it, Aela and Vilkas were in the middle of a rather heated conversation with an unknown individual. Njada was not one to involve herself in the affairs of the other Companion members, especially members of the circle, but her curiosity got the best her.

Steeling her herself, Njada rounded the corner and casually approached the small group, giving a light nod to Vilkas and Aela. The two circle members returned the gesture before turning their attention back to the man in front of them. Njada shot the man a suspicious look. He stood clad in a dark variant of mage robes with a large shrouded hood that hung over his eyes and wore a black face mask of sorts over his lower facial region. He carried a finely crafted glass shield and steel sword upon his back, indicating he preferred melee combat over arcane duels.

Stone-Arm briefly glanced at the strange man before turning back to Vilkas and Aela. "I've dealt with the bandits at Halted Steam, they won't be bothering the miners or anyone else again."

Vilkas nodded, his eyes never looking away from the hooded stranger. "Good, you'll receive your pay when Aela and I are finished speaking to our… friend, here. Return to Jorrvaskr"

There was a long, tense pause as the three Companions glared at the man. Njada wanted to remain with Vilkas and the Huntress, wanted to hear what exactly the hooded stranger had to say, but Aela thought otherwise.

"Did you not hear him, whelp? Get back to Jorrvaskr, this does not concern you."

Growling, Stone-Arm turned on her heels and retreated to the hall. If it was one thing she hated more than being called a whelp, it was when the circle members would pull rank on her.

The second they heard the door slam shut, the two Companions went back to putting the strange looking man to question.

"I will ask one last time, why is it you seek our Harbinger?" Vilkas asked, his tone aggressive and dark.

"As I have said before, I cannot tell you why I need to speak with him," the man answered calmly. "But I assure you, it is of the utmost importance."

The Huntress snarled, eyes flashing with anger. "You come demanding an audience with our Harbinger without giving reason as to your intent. You are either incredibly brave, or monumentally foolish. I suggest you leave this place at once, while you still can."

The hooded man shook his head. "Such hostility, is this the way the Companions treat everyone they come across?"

The two Companions merely shot the man a cold glare, and he sighed.

"Very well, I will leave. But, if it isn't too much trouble," he pulled a letter from the inside of his robe and held it out to the two warriors. "Could you at least give him this?"

Vilkas eyed the man for a moment before snatching the letter out of his hand. The hooded man gave an appreciative bow before turning on his heels heading for the steps leading to the Wind District.

"I don't trust him," Aela said flatly. "He reeks of death."

Vilkas nodded. "I know what you mean, there's something strange about him."

"I don't know what he wants with the Harbinger," Aela began. "But if I so much as see him near Jorrvaskr, he's a dead man."

…

"This is starting to get very repetitive." Ria grumbled as she slammed her sword back in its scabbard.

The Harbinger nodded. "Agreed, the constant draugr attacks are starting to get on my nerves."

After retrieving the claw from the recently deceased Arvel the Swift, as he called himself, the duo descended into the deepest reaches of the barrow, battling their way through what seemed to be hordes of the undead. Though victorious against the once proud Nordic warriors, their efforts were not without setbacks. Their progress through the barrow had been slowed considerably.

The Harbinger remembered hearing that Bleak Falls was one of, if not _the _smallest of the burial sites that dotted Skyrim's landscape, a fact that slightly frustrated him. He was tired. Tired of this morbid exploration, tired of the constant barrage of draugr, tired of all traps they found around every corner and tired of the pit that was forming in his stomach. If it was his choice, he would have left the barrow the moment he pried the claw out of Arvel's severed hand.

Unfortunately for him, he had already promised the Jarl he would find this Dragon Stone, or at least make an attempt. As far as he or anyone else knew, the hunk of rock may not even exist. If that was the case, then he and Ria were wasting their time on a fool's errand. The young Nord shook his head. Letting one's mind wander while exploring a crypt filled with the walking dead was a good way to get killed.

Clearing his mind of all unnecessary thoughts, the Harbinger pressed forward, Ria close behind. The two Companions continued their decent, battling their way past the seemingly limitless hordes of undead. Finally, after hours of constant fighting, they reached the doors to the inner sanctum of the crypt. The duo entered, both deliberately slow, both wary to the dangers of traps and draugr. Fortunately for them, anything that could possibly kill them was virtually non-existent.

They continued their journey through the dreary tunnel until finally, they came upon the Hall of Stories. The two warriors were in awe. They had heard about the great Hall of Stories from various books and Kodlak White-Mane himself, but to lay their own eyes upon it was… surreal. Just like the former Harbinger had described, the stories of great Nordic warriors were carved into the very walls themselves. The carvings depicted the warriors triumphing over scores of enemies, rescuing beautiful women and saving whole cities and its people.

The Harbinger allowed a smirk to cross his lips. Though he cared nothing for the history of his people or anything in general, the hall was admittedly impressive.

"It's amazing," Ria said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've never seen anything like this."

"Ria, look."

The Imperial turned attention to her right. "That door… do you think it's the same one Arvel mentioned in his journal?"

The Harbinger strode over to the large stone door and immediately began to inspect the surrounding area. If there was one thing he knew, it was that the ancient Nords always rigged doors such as these.

"Is something wrong, Harbinger" Ria asked as she approached him.

The young leader pointed down. "Look."

Looking to the floor, Ria saw a number of fist sized holes. Three rows to be exact.

The Imperial swallowed. "Okay, I'll bite. What are those?"

"Some form of trap, I'd wager. This door has very specific markings upon it, and so does this claw we got from Arvel."

Ria shrugged. "Okay, but I still don't see what that has to do with the trap underneath us."

The Harbinger sighed. "Don't any of you whelps ever use your heads? The trap is the door itself, another puzzle."

Ria took a moment to examine ancient portal, taking special note of the animal carvings. Then, realization hit her.

"I see, it's just like the iron gate we came across before we fought that spider."

The Harbinger nodded. "Exactly, we have to place these dials on the door in the right combination to gain access into the chamber."

"Then we're out of luck," Ria huffed out. "We don't have the combination."

"Again, you're not using your head," the Harbinger pulled out the claw and held it up to the Imperial. "If what Arvel wrote in his journal is true, then the combination to the door is literally in the palm of our hands."

Ria shot the Nord a skeptical look. "Are you sure we can trust the words of a bandit?"

"I trust the words of a man who was so sure he could come up on the biggest payday of his life that he broke into an ancient Nordic crypt crawling with draugr."

"I see your point."

The Harbinger began spinning the dials, matching them with the images on the claw.

"Well, here goes."

The young Nord placed the golden key into the center of the door and turned. The room rumbled for a moment, sending small vibrations surging through the two Companions. Before long, the ancient door screeched open, revealing the long forgotten chamber. The duo slowly made their way through the small cave they'd entered, weapons drawn, eyes searching the floor for traps left behind by the ancient Nords.

Ahead of them, at the very center of the cavern, lay a large sarcophagus. Around it, various jewels, gold and other treasures neatly laid about, including a large chest. The Harbinger's gaze fell on the curved wall situated behind the ancient coffin. That was when he heard it. Strange, unfamiliar chanting. Chanting he'd never heard a day in his life, yet sounded… familiar.

He sheathed his blades and moved for the wall, enthralled by it. As he neared the ancient structure, he heard the sounds of rushing air fill his ears, the strange chanting growing ever louder.

"Harbinger, what are you doing?" Ria growled.

The young Nord pressed forward, the words of his shield sister never truly reaching his ears. The words suddenly burst out at him, probing their way into the deepest crevices of his mind, blurring his vision. Then, as quickly as it began, the chanting ended and the light faded. The Harbinger stood silent, his eyes coming back into focus.

The young Nord stood silent, unmoving, body shaking violently. He shouldn't have known what the strange markings said, shouldn't have been able to constantly repeat the word over and over again in his head. But he knew. He knew it like he knew his own name.

And it scared him to death.

"Harbinger, what's wrong with you?" Ria all but shouted as she shook the young warrior. "Snap out of it!"

"Fus…" the Harbinger muttered.

Ria raised a confused eyebrow. "What?"

Behind them, the coffin began to rumble. Ria turned to face the ancient sarcophagus, pulling her sword from its sheath. The coffin was suddenly thrown through the air by a powerful but unseen force and exploded into pieces as it hit the floor. The event seemed to shake the Harbinger from his trance as the young Nord spun on his heels toward the tomb, swords drawn and ready to rend flesh from bone.

Rising from the ancient coffin was a large, sinister looking draugr. Unlike the other undead warriors the duo had come across, this draugr sported a darker, more powerful looking set of the ancient armor and spiked helm. On his back rested a large ancient great sword, ready to spill the blood of its master's foes. Pulling the sword off its back, the draugr lunged at them.

Ria threw her shield up, bracing for the impact. She had expected the impact to send a numbing vibration through her arm, what she didn't expect was the icy chill that froze her to the core. The Imperial quickly backpedaled away from the undead Nord, narrowly avoiding the blow aimed at her neck. Ria shook the frost from her arm and charged the corpse. She rammed her shield into the undead Nord's midsection, forcing it backwards.

Capitalizing its lack of defense the Harbinger slashed at the ancient Nord's exposed back, the razor edge of his sword cutting deep into decayed flesh. The draugr spun and lashed out at the young Nord, aiming to sever the boy's head. The Harbinger ducked the blow and slashed at the dead man's knees. Roaring a battle cry, Ria launched herself at the undead warrior and drove her sword through its gut.

On any man or woman the wound would mean instant death, but dealing a death blow to an enemy that was already dead was proving to be rather difficult. The Two companions found themselves becoming more and more frustrated by the minute. No matter how many times they stabbed or slashed at the walking corpse it continued to press its attack, seemingly unfazed by the duo's constant barrage of attacks. The shield siblings leapt backwards and put some much needed distance between themselves and their undead opponent.

The Harbinger let out a grunt of frustration, none of the draugr he'd faced before had been as tough as the one before him. He knew they were tenacious, but this one seemed to have limitless durability. The young Nord sighed.

_I don't have time for this… _

With the speed of a released arrow, the Harbinger charged the undead Nord. The draugr, seemingly surprised by the Nord's sudden burst of speed, began to backpedal. The Harbinger launched a blitzkrieg of vicious sword strikes that staggered the undead warrior. The draugr slammed its decayed foot into the young Nord's midsection, forcing him back. The undead Nord swung a mighty overhead blow, attempting to decapitate the young warrior.

Drawing from the strength of his beast blood, the Harbinger swatted the ancient great sword from the draugr's hands and, in one swift, precise swing, lopped the dead man's head from his shoulders. The now headless draugr collapsed in a heap, finally brought down for good. The Harbinger slammed his blades into their scabbards and strode over to the sarcophagus. There, where the draugr once lay, sat the object the two Companions sought.

The legends, the myths, the fables, they were all true. Farengar was right. It existed.

The Dragonstone.

Ria walked over and peered inside, eyes wide in amazement. "So this is it then, this is the Dragonstone."

The Harbinger nodded. "So it is. I can't believe it, that know-it-all was right."

"The Jarl will be very happy when we bring this thing to him."

"I suppose." the young Nord turned to the Imperial and gave a rare, friendly smile. "Ria, you did well today. Not just with Hajvaar and his gang, but the barrow as well. You showed courage and kept your composure in the most dire of times, something I haven't seen in a new blood warrior in years. You've brought great honor to the Companions and yourself, Ria."

Ria's face went beet red. "T-thank you, Harbinger! I-I don't know what to say I-"

"Save it for when we return to town. For now, let's just get out of this damn tomb."

"As you say, Harbinger. I've had my fill of adventure for one day."

The Harbinger hoisted the stone from the sarcophagus and promptly proceeded to wrap it in linen he found near the chest. The two Companions then made their way for the nearby exit, eager to finally return to the living world. As they left, the Harbinger took one final look at the strange wall. He briefly wondered what it was that made him become so enamored with the ancient structure, why the strange markings seemed so familiar to him.

Shaking the thoughts from his mind, the young Nord willed himself forward, not wanting to waste another second in the foul tomb. He turned his thoughts to more pressing concerns, the main one being that of the Imperial Ria. She had passed her trail with flying colors, almost flawlessly. But the question of her reaction to their… gift, still haunted his mind. Would she accept the price of joining the Companions inner ranks, or would she turn from them?

Only time would tell.

**A/N: Well, here we are again people, the next chapter of the saga. I know I had said that I'd put both Bleak Falls AND the dragon fight into this chapter, but doing so would have meant a lot more writing for me plus a bad first dragon fight scene. I plan on taking a few days off from writing to get my ideas together, that way when I do the fight between the dragon and the Harbinger, I'll have a very well put together scene. **

**Now, while I liked this chapter, I found it kind of hit and miss, especially on the last fight scene, I mean it's okay, but not the BEST, know what I mean? I personally think I could've done better, but you guys seem to really like the story so far, so that's good. Glad to see everyone enjoying it. **

**On a completely different note, did you guys see the Saints Row 4 Gat is back trailer!? I'm like "Holy Fuckin' shit, now I HAVE to get this game!" Swear it's gonna be sick as hell.**

**Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this latest chapter. Stay tuned, next chapter is the one you've all been waiting for! The Harbinger/dragon fight and the identity of the Harbinger will finally be revealed. Furthermore, the rating for this story will probably change to "M" in the future. Until then, stay gold. **

_**~Bang**_


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